


In the Tides of Bogildo Island

by Chngminxo



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Folklore, M/M, Selkies, Warning for mention of suicidal thoughts, but still trigger warning, it's literally one line, specifically irish/scottish/faroese folklore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-06 04:55:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 34,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8735701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chngminxo/pseuds/Chngminxo
Summary: "That's a Sea-Child, that is." She said with twinkling eyes, "They live as seals in the water but strip off their skins and walk like people on land, most beautiful creatures you'd ever lay your eyes on. Only heartbreak's to come from falling for one, though. There isn't a thing on this green earth that'd keep them from the sea."





	1. Chapter 1

“ _Hey Yongguk-ah, it's me. Sorry I missed your call, and I'm sorry to hear that Seoul isn't working out for you. I've said it before, but seriously, man. You know you're welcome to come down here, get away from that city smog. The ocean air will do you good.”_ The train screeched against its tracks as it rounded a particularly sharp bend and Yongguk listened to the voicemail for the hundredth time. He wasn't quite sure what it was he listened for, hesitation maybe, or distraction, but even now all he heard on Himchan's voice was sincerity. Maybe he was right, it wouldn't be the first time.

 

When the train had left Seoul, Yongguk had felt the tension begin to melt. By the time it was passing through Songnam, he could breathe clearer again and once it hit the countryside his mind finally found peace. There wasn't much unpopulated land, and every few kilometres the racing train shot through another town or village, sometimes even cities. The mountains began to tower around them, and Yongguk had thought he would have felt them closing in on him like he were trapped once more the same way the towers of Seoul did but it was different out here. Everything seemed to be.

 

A few rows in front of him, a mother sat with her two children. One looked out the window in awe of the world as it passed them by, the other was focused on the book held secure in her small hands, “Jiyunnie-ah,” Her mother scolded, “You'd miss whole seasons with your nose stuck in that book.” Yongguk watched the way the girl lifted her gaze, cheeks flushing pink. Across the aisle from Yongguk was a business man, tapping rhythmically on his computer, editing some important document for a meeting he was no doubt travelling towards, and behind him he could hear the conversation of an elderly couple as they read over the newspaper.

 

The first time the train stopped, the businessman got off. Yongguk watched as he walked, briefcase in hand and disappeared into the crowd. Once more, the train began to move, and once more city melted into forest, forest into golden fields of pasture, continuing in an endless stream. The family stood up when they were almost to Gwangju and the train stuttered on the tracks, causing the girl to stumble and drop her book. Yongguk leant forward, his fingers curving around the spine as he lifted it and offered it out to her. She took it with a shy smile, just as her brother gasped and pointed to where the ankle of Yongguk's pants had ridden up.

 

“Mama look this man is plastic!” He said, and Yongguk recoiled, using his other foot to nudge down his pants until they covered his prosthetic leg.

 

“Hush!” The boy's mother said, nudging him none-too-gently further down the hall. Yongguk heard her scolding her children for getting too close to a stranger just as the doors opened, but still once they were off the train the little girl turned to wave back at him until the crowd swallow them whole.

 

The train took both longer than he expected, and shorter than he wanted but eventually it pulled into its final stop and ejected all the remaining passengers. Yongguk stood, using one arm to sling his only bag over his back and follow the others as they spilled out onto the platform. Families waited by the gate to collect their loved ones, friends rushed to embrace one another and alone, Yongguk left the station.

 

He made it to the ferry on foot with only minutes to spare. The heavy gates lowered down with a rhythmic beeping and Yongguk watched the way southern seamen dragged the ropes back on deck, swinging them around metal beams to keep them out of the way until they were needed once more to anchor.

 

Overhead gulls called to one another in a mournful song, their wings carrying their weight through the salty ocean breeze and Yongguk watched them swoop through the air to dive down into the water below, catching fish between their beaks. Waves sloshed at the side of the boat and he closed his eyes with hands gripping on to the railing as he took in slow and deep breaths through his nose and re-acquaint himself with the scent of the sea. He had grown up for a time on an island himself before his family chose to return to the mainland, to Incheon. As he grew from a boy to a man, the sea had been his most constant companion, he couldn't quite remember why he had chosen to relinquish that love in turn for the city.

 

By now, the mainland had been left far behind and they drew nearer to Bogildo. The boat rocked beneath Yongguk's feet as it slowed down to a crawling pace, beginning to weave its way through the oyster beds surrounding the island. They were spread far and wide in a grid, wood pillars peeking out with strong beams connecting them beneath the water. The majority of income made on the island was from fishing, something he knew was a pride to the people who had lived there for an age.

 

Voices called behind him and the crew once more began to gather their ropes, preparing to dock just as Yongguk spotted the seal. Only its very crown was visible above the water but as they passed it seemed to turn, as though watching them from behind the rocking waves. He blinked, and it was gone, disappearing down into the ocean deep.

 

The island's dock was small, just a wooden jetty and sheltered waiting zone. The road seemed unpaved, and only a few cars were parked nearby with a small crowd gathered to collect those who had travelled over the water to see them. It didn't take him long to spot Himchan. He was tall, taller than Yongguk remembered, and his hair was a mess of soft black, neither cropped nor styled in any fashion. He looked so different out of his military greens, there was a different kind of softness about him.

 

“You made it,” His friend greeted with a smile. They did not hug, nor touch at all but the eye contact was enough.

 

“Of course.” Yongguk said, nodding his head, “I wasn't sure if you would come and collect me. I thought I was to walk into town.”

 

Himchan waved a hand, turning to lead him back towards his car, “I live on the far side of the island, too far to walk. Of course I would come and get you.”

 

His bag was thrown in the back and soon he was once more watching the world pass him by. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, Lord knows they had spent many hours in silence during the extent of their military service. He didn't quite remember how they had become friends, all he knew was that they had grown inseparable, always having one another's backs. They shared a bunk, and were most often paired together on patrols and exercises. It was half way through their second year when Himchan was caught sneaking from the base. His punishment had been severe, and he had been pulled from Yongguk's side, leaving the elder man with a soldier not much more than a boy, in over his head, terrified. They had been alone together the day of the accident, scouring empty forest for long dormant land mines left over from the war long ago. The Army had called it a freak accident and an honest mistake, and Yongguk still remembered the look on the boy's face as he realised when he declared the leaf littered floor clear of any danger he had been terribly and devastatingly wrong.

 

Few trees grew on the island, instead it seemed like an expanse of grass, curving and rolling in strings of hills. Yongguk guessed it was a combination of both its size and seclusion but still it felt unusual, old. Like something from a different time, only now known in books. What little forest there was grew in small clumps, the trees tall and growing close together in a formidable dark that seemed impenetrable.

 

Himchan cleared his throat. “It's been a while.” He said, glancing from the road to his companion.

 

“It has.” Yongguk replied. Regardless of the vital roles they had once played in each other's lives, Yongguk's premature release from the military and subsequent solidarity had spelled an end to most of his relationships, though it was not for a lack of Himchan's effort. He did feel guilty still about the way he ignored the valuable calls Himchan had made to him, wasting what little outside contact a soldier was offered, just like he ignored the emails that came once he was discharged. It had been almost two years now since they had last stood face to face. Yongguk wasn't quite sure what he did to deserve such a kindness.

 

“What have you been doing?” Another glance, then the car veered left. Yongguk could just see the roofs of the village not too far ahead, but the dirt road they were on was taking them away from it and towards the other side of the island.

 

Yongguk sucked in a deep breath, thinking, “I've been painting a lot... Drawing some, too. I've kept mostly to myself these past years.”

 

“Are you living alone?” Himchan frowned, his thumb was tapping a rhythm against the steering wheel, “You always said there was someone waiting for you outside of the military.”

 

“And you always said you'd never return to the island.” Yongguk replied.

 

Himchan snorted out a laugh as his prying was ignored, “I guess neither of us are living the lives we expected. All those grand conversations we had for our civilian plans, the places we'd go, the things we'd do. The people we'd do them with.” He shook his head, then leant it back against the head rest, “We were ambitious.”

 

“We were naïve.” Yongguk replied.

 

“I guess that's true.” Himchan's smile was melancholy, “It was a long time ago.”

 

Again, they settled in silence, only the rumbling of the engine and the crashing of not-too-distant waves accompanying them. Dust kicked up behind them and Yongguk closed his eyes, Himchan exhaled, “Things were different after you left. Quieter, not that you ever made much sound.” He chuckled, but there wasn't much humour in his voice.

 

“Was there much talk?” Yongguk asked, brow quirked. He had never quite stopped to think about what happened once he was gone. He hadn't thought about much else other than himself in those days.

 

“Here and there. Some of the guys would have killed for an early discharge. During the final winter especially, when we were stuck up in the mountains.” Himchan shook his head, “Rumour had it you were paid a pretty penny in compensation.”

 

“Of course, that was what mattered. They filled my bank account with their pity-cash as though that would fix all my problems. Placate me.” The memories left a bitter taste in Yongguk's mouth, “Money won't ever bring my leg back.”

 

“I should have been there.” Himchan's voice was serious and Yongguk looked over to him. There was a darkness that settled in his eyes, his brows furrowed as he focused on the road before him.

 

“It was an accident.” Yongguk replied.

 

“Yongguk... I should have been there. It's my fault that I wasn't, and if I had been...” He clenched his jaw. Yongguk's hand found his shoulder and squeezed.

 

“It was an accident.” He repeated.

 

The car rounded a corner and ahead, Yongguk could see the shape of a house built on a grassy knoll not far above the sea. It looked old and worn with age, but the smoke that billowed from the chimney was welcoming, while the washing that hung to dry out back gave it a distinct image of a home. Not far beyond the sturdy structure, the grass tumbled down and met with the deep brown of ocean worn rocks, while soft waves licked at their edges. The water here was empty of oyster nets and only a skerries dotted the waves that expanded out as far as the eye could see. Yongguk knew that hiding behind the horizon was Jeju, and beyond that the East China Sea, teaming with ships and industry but from where he sat it felt like the end of the world and infinity had never looked so beautiful.

 

The fading sun refracted on the tossing waves, causing the surface to shine like jewels and concealing the depths below. A breeze was picking up and causing the longer grass to sway, along with the low hanging branches of the few trees that still clung to their changing leaves. It wouldn't be long until winter blew in from the North, but still the air here clung on to the memories of a passing Summer.

 

White clouds drifted over the sun and the back door of the house opened and a figure emerged. He wore clothes that seemed too large, with black hair falling haphazardly into his eyes as he went about collecting the drying linens from the line. The sound of the car's rumbling engine being silenced drew his attention, and he stilled with a white sheet folded over his arm, watching as both men emerged from the vehicle. Yongguk swung his bag over his shoulder and used one hand to try and hold back his hair from the swelling wind, Himchan walked ahead of him.

 

There was no fence or gate surrounding the house, only green grass left to grow tall with a single worn path leading down towards the rocks. Yongguk had to admit to himself that it was larger than he anticipated, but nothing grand like would be seen on the mainland. The building was two stories, built from dark wood by hand what appeared to be many years ago. The tiled roof was sturdy, the chimney brick but in all the offers of status the building gave, it looked like a home.

 

“Jongup-ah.” Himchan called as they approached down the grassy hill. The boy did not move, but his gaze did shift to land upon the man who addressed him.

 

“Himchan.” He said, head tilting just a bit. Himchan stood tall by his side, Yongguk realised the clothing the boy wore must belong to him.

 

“This is Yongguk, my friend from the mainland.” Yongguk offered the boy a smile in greeting, bowing his head respectfully.

 

“From the mainland?” Jongup asked. Again, his head tilted as though taking Yongguk in with this information, brows furrowed. His skin was tan under the island sun, his lips full and pouted over crooked teeth, but it was his eyes that were unusual. Hidden behind long lashes were two irises of deep green entwined with indigo blue, like the ocean after a storm.

 

“Yes.” Himchan confirmed, his hand planting securely on the small of Jongup's back, “Yongguk-ah this is Jongup.” He hesitated, “A friend.”

 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Jongup-ssi.” Together they entered the house, removing shoes and dropping bags. Jongup discarded the dry sheets on a chair by the door and pressed his palms together, but Yongguk noticed how the younger would turn to watch him from the corner of his curious eyes.

 

Himchan showed him to his room, a small guest bedroom on the far side of the house and upstairs. It was modest, with not much more than a bed and a cupboard but the window looked out over the sea and Yongguk knew it was all he required. He unpacked the books from the top of his bag, sitting them on the small bedside table. Next, he withdrew his pencils and paints to place them alongside, but he did not touch the clothing underneath and instead left his bag discarded and leaning against the clouded mirror that was fastened to a nearby wall. The jacket he wore was tossed across the bed and he made again for the door. Voices were echoing from the living room, hushed in their tone but Yongguk did not mind. He was sure that the two lived in their own rhythms, and he wished to keep as much to himself as he could.

 

With the wind outside twining in its sound with the crashing waves, he followed the voices until he was standing in a kitchen. The benches were built around the side, a table in the centre with large windows built facing out towards the horizon. The gentle warmth of the setting sun was bathing the two men who stood inside, Jongup over the counter, Himchan at the table a beer in hand.

 

“You going to go to the beach this evening?” Himchan asked, glancing over to his friend. When Yongguk had first seen him in the harbour, he took note of his civilian attire but now seated at the simple brown wood table, Yongguk noticed how different Himchan's face was. There was something so much gentler and relaxed, his lips finding the easy shape to smile and eyes crinkling every time. Although he was so clearly older than he had been those years before, he was so much more akin to a young man than a weathered soldier.

 

“Not tonight.” Yongguk said, voice low. He dropped into a seat opposite Himchan, “It'll be better to take it in during the day.”

 

Himchan nodded, taking a sip from his drink and rising. Jongup was silent where he stood as Himchan passed him to grab a second beer from the fridge, Yongguk guessed he didn't talk much.

 

“I'm thinking about heading into town in the morning.” Himchan said, sliding the bottle over the table. Yongguk caught it, twisted the lid off with his palm. “There's a couple people I need to talk to. Want to join?”

 

Yongguk shrugged, “I'll check it out.” He glanced over to Jongup, “Will it be all three of us?”

 

“No.” Himchan didn't even confer with the other, elaborating, “Jongup doesn't like the town.”

 

Yongguk tipped his head, “Did you also grow up on the island, Jongup-ssi?” He asked. The boy glanced over his shoulder, surveying the two at the table.

 

“Yes and no.” He replied, “I grew up here and nearby. Also far away, in places you would not know.” His voice was gentle, and different. The tongue sounded old, changed after an age of being tossed in ocean waves, twisted between worn rocks and tangled by growing weed. Yongguk could hear the sea in every syllable and he knew that wherever Jongup was from it was certainly very foreign to him.

 

“But you chose to live on Bogildo?” Yongguk asked.

 

“One does not choose where the waves will carry them, Yongguk-ssi.” Jongup glanced once again over his shoulder. Himchan was watching him with a softened gaze, while he scratched at the dampened label sticking to the body of his beer. The precipitation softened the glue, making it easy to pull back with a nail, leaving the glass satisfyingly clean of both adhesive and text.

 

Outside it had almost grown dark from the clouds that rolled in from the west, smothering the remaining sunlight as it faded on the horizon and Yongguk wondered if it would storm. Across the kitchen, the sound of oil sizzling erupted as Jongup dropped slivers of fish into a heated pan while Yongguk took the first relieving sip of his drink.

 

*

 

_The trees were dark around him, and the scent of wet earth was filling his nose. Yongguk could hear footsteps of his forest companion not far beyond the trees to his left, an animal rustling to his right. Further up, towards a clearing he could see the light of a campfire, warming the trucks and groups of men who clustered together to take in the warmth. Laughter erupted from the ranks and Yongguk watched as Himchan's head was thrown back in laughter, his hand clasped around a bottle, hair cropped short in his military uniform._

 

“ _Private Bang?” The boy called, Shin his name was. He was from the east, some small town in the mountains north of Pohang. He was fresh from high school, getting his service out of the way before joining his dad's business, he'd said. Yongguk couldn't see him as anything more than a child._

 

“ _I'm here, kid.” Yongguk called back, but the trees were dense, too dense to see. Not even his torch light was clear anymore. Again, the platoon ahead of them laughed, Yongguk wanted to join them but he couldn't leave Shin behind._

 

“ _Private Bang, I can't see you.” His voice was growing distant, the trees seemed taller. Yongguk turned from the welcoming glow of the campfire and towards the dark._

 

“ _Shin, I'm here.” He called, stepping between the swelling trunks, under shading branches. Shin called to him again, and again, but still Yongguk couldn't find him. He twisted through a maze of trees, his pack heavy on his back, his boots sinking into the earth beneath his feet like it were quicksand, threatening to swallow him whole. His voice echoed as he shouted, receiving no reply in his name until finally he made it to a clearing._

 

_Shin stood on the opposite side and his face lit up into a relieved smile, “Private Bang!” He called, launching towards him. Yongguk didn't see the round dip in the ground until the boy was almost upon it._

 

“ _Shin stop!” He yelled, too late. Shin stepped on the trigger, and the land mine blew him to pieces._

 

When Yongguk awoke, his body was hot as though he had a fever. Sweat drenched the sheets around him, smothering him as he gasped for breath, trying to shake the images from his mind. The look on Shin's face, the way his eyes had widened right before he realised what terrifying end he was moments away from meeting. Yongguk didn't want to think about how similar it was to that the boy gave him years before, when he realised his mistake could cost Yongguk his life.

 

Around him, the air was thick with his panted breaths, and stuffy, too hot. He felt overwhelmed and too enclosed in the small bedroom and repressive dark. The wind was still blowing strong outside the window, causing the shutters to bang against their frames but from the look of it, only ocean spray, not raindrops spattered against the foggy glass. Slowly, he pushed himself up and swung his leg over the edge of the bed, his foot meeting the sturdy floor, grounding him. His fingers switched at the light which flickered as the oncoming storm interfered with the power, but it was enough for him to reach for both his shirt and prosthetic leg, he doubted he would make it far without either.

 

He left his bedside lamp on and his door open as he made it down the hall, almost stumbling down the stairs in his haste to make it outside and into the air. His shoes sat beside the door and he barely managed to get them on his feet before he was spilling out onto the porch and down to the grass beyond. Wind whipped around him, nearly causing him to lose balance and the sound of crashing waves called to him. He longed to feel the sensation of wet sand between his toes, grounding him, soothing him and before reason could overcome impulse, he made his way towards the sea.

 

The path was uneven and narrow, tall grass growing thick on either side. It was dangerous for him to go down it at night, he knew, so easily he could trip and fall, lose his prosthetic or break the only leg he had but still he continued. It began to widen, and sand appeared trodden into the grass until it dipped down and cascaded into the thin stretch of beach, illuminated by the moon that peaked through the gathering clouds overhead. Even as the swell grew dangerous and rough, the water glimmered and shone, beautiful and formidable.

 

Movement caught Yongguk's eye and he turned his head back towards the dunes. Something emerged from between the trees, slipping like a shadow in and out of sight until it was caught in the glow of the waxing moon. A boy, Yongguk realised, some kind of cloth clutched in his hand and as naked as the day he were born. His legs were long, his body slender and his dark hair fell into his eyes as his feet sunk into the sand with every step towards the crashing waves. The incoming tide was ruthless in its claim of the beach but still the boy advanced without fear until his feet were in the shallows, then his knees, then waist. The waves were washing against his lithe torso when he turned his head, and across the rocks his eyes found Yongguk's own. Soon, though, the swell had taken him and his head disappeared beneath the surface, Yongguk watching as he was lost in the spray as though he had never existed at all.

 

*

 

When the sun rose, the land had been washed over by rain. The dawning sky was pale, the clouds white and very little remained in memory of the night's storms, other than the dips and grooves left in the soil by heavy raindrops. Yongguk woke up too early, but he didn't mind. Instead of rising straight away he chose to remain covered in the warmth of his blankets, an arm tucked behind his head as he gazed towards the roof and listened to the music of the waves that crashed against the shore not far away.

 

It was late morning when Himchan lead Yongguk up the hill to where they left the car the previous day. Jongup watched them from the back porch, arms folded over his chest and the car doors slammed shut. As they drove away from the house, Yongguk glanced back over his shoulder to watch the sea disappear between the trees.

 

“Jongup thought he heard you leave in the middle of the night.” Himchan said, sunglasses perched on his nose, hair flopping into his eyes. Yongguk liked how he looked as a civilian, gentler, soft around the edges. Human, not machine.

 

“I hope I didn't wake him.” The elder man responded.

 

“I'm pretty sure he was alright.” Himchan cast him a smile.

 

There were questions Yongguk had, but he didn't think it his place to ask so he merely nodded, “I went down to the beach, before the rain started.”

 

“Couldn't sleep?” Himchan sent him another sidelong glance, as though pretending not to assess but clearly doing just that.

 

“I woke up. The nightmares still come and go.”

 

Himchan nodded, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel. The wheels of the car crunched against the gravel road, the drying brown grass swayed in the breeze but little sound of life was emitted from the land around them. Yongguk assumed all the cicadas would have already died, many birds having began their migration south for the winter. Dark clouds always loomed on the horizon, a gift with love from November.

 

“He was discharged, y'know. Not long after you.” Himchan said after clearing his throat. Yongguk turned his head, glanced towards him for elaboration, “Shin.”

 

“I assumed they'd make him stay the full two years.” Yongguk replied.

 

“Nope.” The car veered to the left, turning onto a paved road leading towards the fishing town, “After everything that happened, his service was marked complete just six months in.”

 

They passed a run down shed, children playing in the mud outside. One kicked a ball, another lunged for it but they tripped, fell, scraped their knee or something, Yongguk didn't see what followed. He sucked in a deep breath, shrugging one shoulder, “Good for him.”

 

The houses of Bogil were small, traditional. Wide open fronts with low falling roofs offering the comfort of home. In front of some grew trees, in front of others were parked cars but Yongguk could see not much more than nine or ten streets made up the town. A couple of the chimneys were smoking, while other homes lay dormant until their inhabitants returned from the seaside where they harvested their oysters, or the open water where they searched for fish.

 

In the centre of the town, Himchan pulled up the car and they got out. A couple down by the jetty hesitated, glancing back to observe the newcomer then hurrying on their way, while a group of children paused in their game to observe. Yongguk turned to focus again on Himchan as he rounded the car, made towards him, “I need to go do some work stuff. You right to explore?”

 

“I'm happy to have a look.” Yongguk nodded his head. He slung his bag over his shoulder, a satchel complete with notebook, pencils, anything else he might need if inspiration struck him.

 

“Right. I'll come find you when I'm done.” With that, Himchan turned and made his way between lopsided buildings and out of sight. Through his nose, Yongguk took in the scent of the sea and began his exploration of Bogil. He started down towards the water, where in summer he was sure people would dive from the jetty. Around the corner, beyond the small buildings was the harbour that protected the island's anchored ships when they were not so needed out at sea. Each one bobbed on the curved waves, following their rhythm and at the mercy of their power. They were a mixture of large and small, some capable of housing two or three men for longer trips, while others would hardly last an afternoon before the water washed into the low riding basin. Beyond the harbour, he could see rows of boats laying upturned on the beach, their oars fastened to their sides as they sat drying in what little sun peaked through the clouds above.

 

Behind him, a car rumbled down the road and he stepped from the pitchman to the drying grass, then to the sturdy wood of the jetty that stuck out from the rounded rocks. The wood creaked beneath his weight and water sloshed at the pylons that supported the structure as he walked to its very end, gazing out. On this side of the island, he could see the rows of oyster beds just below the surface and the faintest shapes of other islands at the very edge of the horizon. Boats were passing by at a motored speed, tossing aside splashes of salt and sea, while others wove between the netting upon which clung the island's greatest asset.

 

Ahead of him bobbed a buoy on the rocking waves anchored deep below the surface. A bell sat at its centre, hanging down for when the swell grew stronger and the mist thick, to warn those venturing out in their boats. The water below the jetty was murky from the night's rain. Torn weed had been ripped from it's ocean roots and floated across the surface, mixed with grass and leaves washed into it from the land. He could not see fish nor crabs through the surface, only the swirling of mud.

 

Yongguk raised his head when the bell rang out, watching as water sloshed over its side, a sign of something disturbing it from below. He could just make out the vague shadow of a rounded shape, strong fins and a elongated tail as it approached the light and air, breaking the surface and sucking in breath. The seal's head was only just visible, half concealed still by the buoy but he could have sworn it watched him. Its nose was rounded, its long-lashed eyes wide as it followed the movement on land from between the waves. The coat was a warm brown, with deeper spots dotting over its gentle face, whiskers poking out either side of its mouth. Yongguk guessed it was beautiful in its way, with melancholy eyes and ocean slicked skin and he wondered briefly if it was harder to swim after the storm, through the land's muck that clouded its vision.

 

A wave washed over its head, and the creature dove back down to the clouded depths and Yongguk stood. He slung his bag across his back again and crossed the jetty to return to land and into the winding streets of Bogil. Opening onto the main road was a general shop, selling groceries and other knick knacks shipped from the mainland. Its shelves were rickety and only half filled with produce, and newspapers that looked to be days old. Good luck charms hung in the doorway, lifted by the breeze as he made his way past and down an alley towards a fishmonger, who's door was left open, emitting the scent of low-tide then past a third building which appeared empty.

 

At the end of the street was another store, doors and windows propped open and a rack of charms set up outside. Yongguk brushed his fingers across the fragments of sea-worn-glass threaded between shells onto fishing wire and tied off at the end with simple brass bells.

 

“It's five thousand Won for that one, love.” Came a woman's voice as she bustled from the door, her hands filled with more of her wares to place on display.

 

“They're beautiful.” Yongguk complimented, though he withdrew his hand to look around. From what he could see through the open windows, old books were stacked on shelves equally as aged, while dusty paintings hung against the wooden beam wall. It was a strange assortment of knick-knacks, and he wasn't sure if it passed off as _antiques_ or just junk but still intrigued, he stepped past the mobiles that hung outside and towards the door, glancing back to the elder woman.

 

“May I?” He asked.

 

“Of course, of course!” She said, shaking her head and setting her things down, “Go on in and take a look around, lovie. Might find something to catch ya eye.”

 

With a polite bow of his head, Yongguk stepped into the store. The books and paintings were only the beginning of it, with shelves of old jewellery and crockery stacked against the wall too in a form of organised chaos. He picked up a book and flicked through the pages, taking note of the name scrawled in the front cover, the date from a time far too long ago.

 

“Are you looking for anything in particular?” The woman asked, her palms pressed together, “'S not often we get handsome young gentlemen like you on the island, are you out from Mokpo for the day, love?”

 

He glanced over his shoulder, “I'm staying with a friend for a bit. I'm from Seoul.”

 

Her aging eyes widened, the crepey skin around them flattening out with the pull down of her mouth, “From _Seoul?”_ Her voice was filled with shock. Another woman, bustling past took pause in the doorway.

 

“Gayeon-ah,” She greeted, though hesitated before the island gossip could spill from her mouth to instead look over Yongguk with a curious gaze, “You've got a new friend, hm? What'll your husband say when he sees this handsome man callin' on ya!”

 

The woman, Gayeon, scoffed, hitting out a hand towards her friend, “Oh hush, Miyoung, this one here says he's come to the island from Seoul!”

 

Again, Yongguk bowed, his lips tugging over his straight teeth at the excited women. Both were dressed similarly in hand-stitched cotton, with grey hair pulled back into a neatly tied bun and their skin aged from decades worn by the sun and salt.

 

“Just for a while, Ma'am. I'm staying with a friend.” He said again, setting down the book. He took in the sight of the jewellery, laid out on beds of dusty velvet, the colour fabric having faded with time.

 

“Are you lookin' for something for yer girl back home, then?” Gayeon asked, stepping up closer.

 

“No, Ma'am.” Yongguk shot her another smile, “I don't have someone back home.”

 

Miyoung laughed, clapping her hands, “Don't say that too loud, City-boy! Our Gayeonnie here will start getting' all excited that you're available!”

 

“Oh hush!” Gayeon scolded, shooting her friend a look, “So who are ya staying with, then? Is it the Choi family, they always boast about their cousins on the mainland.”

 

“With Kim Himchan.” Yongguk replied, “On the other side of the island.”

 

Miyoung's mirth faded to be replaced with deeper curiosity, “Himchan?” She asked, “Why he never mentioned he was havin' a friend come down! I'm glad you're there with him, we worry about him all alone in that big house of his!”

 

Yongguk hesitated as she said Himchan lived alone but he did not correct her, “It's good to see him.”

 

“Y'know Mrs. Lee was tellin' me that grandson of hers said he saw a strange boy outside the Kim house! Must've been this one, she'll be real excited when she hears.” Gayeon said conspiratorially to her friend who nodded.

 

“Yeah she did, about a week back! Was that you?” Miyoung asked.

 

Without a moment of thought, Yongguk nodded, assuming Jongup's residence with Himchan would be secret for a reason. He trusted his friend. “That was me, I've been keeping mostly to myself. Taking in the sea, clearing my lungs of the city.”

 

Miyoung sighed, nodding once, “There was a time we expected him to move up to the mainland, like all the other boys his age usually do. Even when his parents died he was plannin' to sell the family business, give up the island and move up to Seoul but then one day last summer he just changed his mind. No one expected it to happen! We were all happy to see him stay, glad to have someone _that_ gorgeous to keep our eyes on!” Miyoung laughed. She was missing her lower front teeth and her tongue peeked when she smiled wide, “It'd be nice for 'im to settle down, though. Don't want him getting' lonely in that house and there's plenty more pretty girls on the mainland he could bring back 'ere, he'd father some pretty gorgeous kiddies. How'd ya say you knew 'im again?”

 

“I didn't. We did our service together.” Yongguk said, his lips turning downwards into a frown as he realised how little he and Himchan truly knew about one another.

 

“Your service?” Gayeon asked, humming in thought. Yongguk nodded once again as he stepped across the room, glancing to the paintings hanging against the wall. One portrayed a simple fishing boat, tilted by the waves with Bogil nestled welcomingly in the background. The buildings seemed newer, as though freshly built while the boat its self suggested a wealth for the island Yongguk had not seen.

 

The two women exchanged words quietly behind him, sharing in gossip of the island as he stepped closer towards the wall and to the next painting. The frame was small, simple brown wood creating a border around the image of turquoise and periwinkle waves with three intricate faces peeking out. Yongguk tilted his head as he surveyed the face of a girl, only her eyes and crown and the tips of her ears above the surface of the water, a seal flanking her either side. She looked out of the frame with a gaze of wonder, while her deep brown hair hung limp like seaweed into her eyes.

 

Yongguk reached out to touch the artwork, his fingers brushing over the lumps in the paint that came with the aging work and he took in the melancholy eyes of the seals, as though they knew they were going to lose their ocean daughter to the land.

 

“What you lookin' at, lovie?” Gayeon called.

 

“This painting.” Yongguk replied, glancing back towards her, “What's the story behind it?”

 

Miyoung sent him a grin, her eyes twinkling, “That's a Sea-Child, that is. Stories of them go far back to when people first started coming to the island. Some say the first fishermen were so lonely they started taking seals as wives.” Gayeon made a face at her friend, but Miyoung continued, “They live as seals in the water, but some of 'em have the ability to strip off their skins to walk on land like people. Stories 've always told they're beautiful, too, more beautiful than any plain ol' girl you'd find on Bogildo.”

 

“Miyoung-ah, don't scare off the city-folk with old fisher-wives tales.” Gayeon swatted at her friend.

 

“Ya hear so many stories, though! They say if a man gets a hold of'er it makes their children not right, too. You can tell they're half blood from the sea.” Miyoung glanced beyond him to the painting, “They say you'd get bewitched by 'em as soon as you see 'em. They talk all old'n funny, like they've got some other dialect, but their magic drags you right in, like you'd die if you didn't have 'em. Won't come willingly to wed, though, you have to steal their skins once they shed them, hide them away cause once they get a hold of 'em again, straight back into the water they go.”

 

“Don't know why anyone thought to make a seal romantic. Those smelly things just get in our way, stealing our oysters from their nets, there's nothin' romantic about them.” Gayeon shook her head, shifting some of the books on the teetering shelf.

 

“Only heartbreak's to come from falling for a Sea-Child anyway. There isn't a thing on this green earth that'd keep those creatures from the sea.” Miyoung sighed wistfully.

 

“Oh please don't go talking as though those nonsense stories are anything near truth.” Gayeon huffed, “It's all just talk from bored women spending too much time apart from their husbands. They should be focusing on their families and their homes if you ask me, rather than spinning tales.”

 

“Nonsense or no, I wouldn't mind a gorgeous Seal-Man coming ashore to ravish me.” Miyoung laughed.

 

“I do hope you're not scaring off my friend, Ahjumma.” Himchan's voice called from the door. Yongguk turned away from the painting to face him.

 

“We were just gettin' to know him, after all you've been keepin' someone so gorgeous hidden away in that house of yours.” Miyoung said.

 

“Yes well if I brought him into town too soon I was worried he was going to get kidnapped by you beautiful ladies, then he'd never want to go back to Seoul.” Himchan offered them both a warm smile, Gayeon bustled over to pinch at his cheeks.

 

“Oh enough of your sweet talkin', you, it'll get you nothing but trouble.” She scolded.

 

“I just want to see your lovely smile, Ahjumma.” Himchan pressed a kiss to her cheek, next turning to Yongguk. “You ready?”

 

The elder man nodded once, making towards the door. Miyoung stopped him with a grab at his sleeve and her best sly look, “You'll come 'n' see us before you go headin' back to the mainland right, Handsome?”

 

“Of course, Ahjumma.” Yongguk replied with a bow of his head. She released him, and he joined Himchan in the doorway.

 

“Your husband was getting back to shore when I was passing by, Ahjumma.” Himchan said, chuckling, “Claiming some seals have been stealing from his oyster nets again.”

 

Gayeon sighed and rolled her eyes, “My oh my the man is paranoid. Thank you, Himchannie-ah, you take good care of yourself, hm?”

 

“I will.” He replied, bowing as he stepped back towards the road. Yongguk followed him, the two of them falling into step side by side, “Should've warned you about them, sorry. The people on the island can get excited about newcomers.”

 

Yongguk's lips quirked, “Don't worry about it. They were nice.” He said. The car beeped as it was unlocked and both climbed back in, relaxing in their seats. It was early afternoon, nearing lunchtime and Yongguk could feel his stomach beginning to rumble with need.

 

“I hope they didn't hassle you.” Himchan glanced over to him.

 

“They were just telling me stories about the island.” Yongguk said. Himchan's hands were curving tight around the steering wheel, knuckles almost white as he focused on the road before him with furrowed brows and an intense gaze. Yongguk wondered briefly of what he had learned about his friend that day, curious as to what he still did not understand but it wasn't his place to pry.

 

They drove mostly in silence back across the island to where the small house was tucked between the forest and the shore. No smoke rose from the chimney this time as they approached down the hill on foot, and the line outside was naked of washing but still Jongup greeted them by the door with stormy eyes and a gentle smile. He told them he'd made food and hungrily they followed him through the house to where plates were spread across the table, and in the centre a basket of freshly picked oysters.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello! This is a little project I've been working on for a little bit recently and I'm so excited to finally post the first part. This story will only have four or five parts to it, but never the less it is something I've been working on for a while, and a fantastic way to break from my Huingol ways. I really hope you enjoy! (I apologise for how messy it is, this is like the first time I've properly written in MODERN DAY since starting my Huingol series last march and safe to say I've fkn forgotten how modern day works omg.)
> 
> I want to add, [Bogildo is a real island!](https://www.google.com.au/maps/@34.1419764,126.5336209,11925m/data=!3m1!1e3) It is in Jeonnam province and lies in the water south-east of Mokpo towards Jeju. However the way it is described in this story is my own original mental-image and does not necessarily reflect the natural geography of it. The description of oyster farms is accurate, though, and they ring around almost the entire island other than the southern most side. Also, the painting I mentioned is [based on this.](http://chngminxo.tumblr.com/post/152756727909/galeriadeilusiones-selkie-selkies-are-seals)


	2. Chapter 2

The sky took mercy upon them as the day moved, and rain still did not fall. They had eaten together all that Jongup had prepared for them, cleared and soon were parting ways. Himchan mentioned the emails and papers he needed to look over for his family business while Jongup merely slipped away in relative silence to elsewhere in the house without any offer of explanation. Himchan did not seem bothered, though, at his friend's lack of conversation, and so Yongguk accepted it as a normality.

 

“When's low tide?” Yongguk asked, drying a plate with a nearby towel. Himchan had insisted it wasn't necessary for him to do a thing, but Yongguk disagreed. He refused to be a burden.

 

The younger glanced towards the clock that hung against the wall, his lips pursing, “It should be in an hour or so today. The beach pretty much disappears once the tide comes in, but when it's out you can walk down there and across the rocks, too. You thinking about going down?”

 

“It would be worth checking out.” Yongguk shrugged a shoulder, “I'll take my pencils or paints, sit out there for a while.”

 

“It's still warm enough to get your feet wet.” Himchan said. Yongguk noticed the way his friend winced as his own words registered, “Foot...” The attempt at a remedy was weak at best but Yongguk didn't mind, he couldn't blame Himchan for forgetting.

 

“I'll see how cold it is.” Yongguk offered him a smile, he hated seeing the guilt in Himchan's eyes, “I'll be back before it gets dark.”

 

“Have fun.” Himchan said.

 

The scent of salt was something Yongguk had missed while living in Seoul. Even in Incheon the seaside air offered relief from the density of the towering buildings, the bustle of people and swells of pollution that drifted from idling cars and buildings of industry but in the capital all escape was gone. The oppressive smog that smothered Seoul every summer afternoon suffocated him, the dust and pollen that lined his throat and gathered in his lungs left him choking. The city was slowly killing him from the inside out, and only the ocean offered salvation.

 

With pencils and paints tucked safely into his bag, he made it down the well trodden path and towards where he could hear the withdrawing waves crashing down upon the worn rocks. Only a sliver of sand was revealed up near the dunes, but Yongguk knew that would grow with the dragging tide to reveal more of the secluded beach. It had been such a long time since he last felt the soft sensation of sand between his toes or water lapping at his ankles. Frothing waves slid towards him and he watched as Pippies, revealed by the eroding water, upended themselves to bury down where they wouldn't be exposed to the air and the keen-eyed seagulls searching for an easy meal.

 

Yongguk lowered himself onto a nearby rock and bent over. He made quick work of undoing his laces and pulling his shoe and sock free from his wriggling toes and he sunk them down into the sand, breathing out a breath of relief. The surface was warm from the sun's rays, but beneath the top layer it was cool and wet, refreshing. Carefully, he tucked his sock into his shoe and set it aside, soon following it with the other and he watched as the waves approached and washed over the carved grooves of his prosthetic toes, the perfectly manufactured arch and heel of his fake foot. While his left foot was cooled pleasantly by the water and his toes wriggled in the familiar sensation of sand, his right food felt nothing. It _was_ nothing, and it never would be again.

 

With teeth clenched together, he slipped his feet back into his shoes, forgoing his socks and climbed up onto the rocks. There was not yet enough sand to cross and so instead he found a place further back from the water, sturdy enough to hold his weight, and comfortable enough to settle upon. He withdrew his pad from his bag and a collection of pencils spilled from the towel they were wrapped in for safety into his palm and he looked up to where the ocean met the sky.

 

Daunting clouds of grey and white were gathering upon the horizon and the Autumn ocean was dark. Yongguk guessed that to any other the sight would be formidable and an offer only of danger, but as his eyes saw the way the frothing waves mirrored the angry sky all he saw was the ethereal beauty of natural symmetry and he touched pencil to paper.

 

Out there by the water it was hard to tell how much time was passing. He couldn't be sure if it was mere moments, or hours but in the remaining warmth of the season's ailing sun, he created the sea. The lead of his pencil traced curved lines across paper which he smudged into the grain with the warmth of his finger and side of his hand. On the horizon he outlined the shape of a skerry, just visible through the salty haze, while the vague forms of seagulls took to the sky to dart between towering clouds. Here, the ocean breeze revived his lungs and left them without want. He had not so much as touched the pouch of tobacco in his pocket since he had left Seoul, but still its outline was a constant comfort.

 

By the time Yongguk lifted his gaze again, the tide had been pushed back and the beach was exposed to dry out in the sun. Scraps of weed lay torn upon the shore while flies buzzed around them, taking in the nutrients they offered before the spongey branches were too dry. He pushed himself up to stand and once his things were tucked safely into his bag he made towards the beach, dropping down from the rocks and into the sand with a heavy thud. The ground gave way beneath him, slipping under his weight and so he walked closer towards the lapping waves where it was compacted under the weight of the water. On the other side of the beach, rocks rose again to create a barrier between the sea and the grassy hills and thin forest beyond, curving around the headland and out of sight. If he followed them for far enough, Yongguk knew he would make it to where other houses lay, or even the town in little more than a couple of hours.

 

The waves frothed just slightly at the edges as they slipped towards him, leaving behind patterns in the sand and he walked. Further out, near the flat skerry the tips of a kelp tree were breaching the surface and swaying in the current, a mere hint at the twisting forest and reefs concealed. Maybe it was this that had stopped oyster beds being built the whole way around the island, and why the people remained confined to Bogil with such little desire to explore the rich world that surrounded them. For a place so dependent on the ocean for survival, it was ironic to Yongguk how determined the island was to turn its back to it.

 

The sole of his shoe took grip on the sturdy rock and he lifted himself up. Grooves were worn into the stone after years of exposure and had filled with water from both the waves and the rain. Further back towards the grass, he noticed the pools were murky and dark, thick with slime and algae and letting off an unpleasant scent. Some weed had been caught in the particularly strong tides and washed up between the grey stone to rot in the sun. He noticed too that between the dry and crisp leaves were tangled fish, their scales having been pulled aside and flesh torn to expose their thin and hollow bones, but now lay unwanted by the creatures who came from between the trees to feed.

 

Closer to the water the stone was a deeper brown and the pools grew gradually clearer until they appeared like glass with sand at their base and long strands of Neptune's Pearls swaying side to side. Small fish darted between the clusters of weed, while sea-snails balanced upon each rounded knot, sucking up whatever was growing off it. His shoes crunched against the small Periwinkles that clustered in grooves not yet deep enough to hold water, while crabs slipped through the cracks between the large boulders and dropped down to hunt for prey in the shallower water beneath with tensing claws and swift legs.

 

A little further on, the plateau Yongguk walked across dropped off from where it must have collapsed years before, and a boulder loomed beyond. With the tide out, the reef had been revealed and webs of Sea Oak lay flattened to the rocks free of the creatures they would usually conceal. Here the pools were deeper and spiny sea urchins clung to their walls, imprisoned and vulnerable until the tide once again rolled in. While a crab may be deterred by an urchin's armour of spikes, here they were easy prey for a human and not one stood a chance against dextrous fingers nor fishing knives that could make easy work of cracking their hard outer shell, and feasting upon their soft flesh.

 

Carefully, he dropped down onto the freshly exposed stone and he began to make his way around the towering boulder, his palm pressed flat to its side to stabilise himself on the weed-slick reef. Treading carefully, Yongguk watched his feet search in the weed for the grip of rock beneath it, fearful that the Sea Oak was concealing deeper pools and whatever stranded creatures were trapped within them. When he finally made it around the boulder, he lifted his gaze to see the unlikely formation of two triangular wedges of rock pressed together from where they had fallen and become pinned between the continuing plateau and the reef below. Sharp peaks met together in the air, while the sturdy bases had taken root and between them was a boy.

 

He was knelt down, his hand reaching behind the razor-edged boulder towards something Yongguk could not see, and he was naked. From where he stood, Yongguk could see that the boy's hair was wet and his sun-bronzed skin speckled with water droplets, while a slim gash wept blood on the side of his calf. When Yongguk inched forward, the sole of his shoe crunched once again over the clusters of small snails hiding from the salt spray in rock-grooves, and the boy went still and lifted his gaze. They remained in silence for a long moment, even as the wind brought the waves washing over the exposed reef, and rose goosebumps on their flesh.

 

“Hello.” He said, lips turned downwards into a frown.

 

“Hello.” The boy responded and slowly stood. Yongguk turned his head to politely avert his gaze, but he caught the way the corner of the boy's lips twitched and split into a crooked smile, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.

 

“I'm sorry I didn't mean to walk up on you...” Yongguk tried, eyes fixed to a nearby rock, “Is your leg alright?”

 

The boy dropped his eyes down to where blood slowly trickled from the wound to drip onto the rock, carried by the salt water yet to dry on his skin, “I got too close to the oysters again.” He said, wincing slightly as he touched his fingertips to the wound, wiping away a smear of blood.

 

“Do you...” Yongguk hesitated again, then spared a glance to survey the boy's expression, “Will you let me look at it?”

 

The boy shrugged a shoulder, looking over to him with a gaze too trusting, “If you would like.” The boy lowered himself down onto the rock, settling comfortably as he gave Yongguk an expectant look, his leg outstretched before him.

 

“Okay.” Yongguk replied. With a deep intake of breath, he stepped over the rocks and towards the naked boy to lower himself down at his side. He dropped his bag beside him and slipped it open to withdraw his towel, “What's your name?”

 

“Junhong.” The boy introduced, “What's yours?”

 

“Yongguk.” With his left hand, he unfurled the twisted cotton and lay it part way across Junhong's naked lap while his right used the very corner to press gently against the wound. Junhong's fingers pressed into the rock beneath him, his nose wrinkling as the pressure stung. “Do you live far from here?” Yongguk asked, aiming to distract from the pain.

 

“Yes and no.” Junhong stated. Yongguk's lips twitched, it was a response he had heard before. Now that he was closer, Yongguk could see that Junhong's eyes were a rich and foreign indigo blue, while his lithe and strong body was one of a young adult. His nose was dusted with a constellation of freckles and his lashes were so long they brushed against the tops of his cheeks whenever he would blink. Yongguk knew Junhong couldn't be too much older than twenty, but the crooked curve of his smile held a child-like mischief and his eyes shone with adventure. Even in silence, Yongguk could not deny that Junhong was one of the most beautiful creatures he had ever seen.

 

“Did you go for a swim?” Yongguk trained his eyes to focus upon his task.

 

“Yes...” Junhong touched his chin to his knee, indigo eyes watching every press of fingers to his skin. The cut didn't appear deep, nor was there any remaining shell digging into his skin, but Yongguk noticed the way the muscle would twitch beneath his hands and how Junhong watched with fascination as he continued, “I came to see the flowers.”

 

“Flowers?” Finally, Yongguk's head lifted.

 

“They only come before the ice-rain. All different colours, too.” Junhong nodded his head, then rose an arm to point beyond the sharp rocks where he had first been seen in the direction Yongguk had been heading, “They're over that way, behind the trees. The island-folk never come to this side anymore, they're too busy with their nets.”

 

“I didn't know there were any here. Everything seems so brown and ready for winter.” Yongguk shook his head with furrowed brows, pulling back the blood-tainted corner of the towel to survey the injury.

 

“Come with me, then.” Junhong said, “I'll show you the way.”

 

When Yongguk looked up, the first thing he saw in Junhong's indigo gaze was trust and he was nodding before he could stop himself, “Alright. I'll go.” Junhong was already making to stand when Yongguk stopped him, “I'll let you get dressed first.”

 

“I don't have any clothing, not like the island-folk wear.” The tinge of his tone was familiar to Yongguk, carrying in it a history of the ocean and the memory of a Korean that died centuries before. This boy wasn't native to Bogildo.

 

Only then did Yongguk glance around at the rocks only covered in seaweed and rings of drying salt. His brows were furrowed as he glanced towards Junhong, “Did you swim all the way here like that?”

 

The boy's mouth once again split into a crooked grin and without responding, he began towards where the plateau rose again from the reef. It was more exposed there and the whipping wind was cold and sharp with salt, “Wait.” The boy stopped and turned his head, full lips pressing together in silent question as he watched Yongguk slip his arms free of his coat, “Put this on.”

 

With a curious hand, Junhong took it and threaded his arms through to bring it around his naked skin. The sleeves were too short for his slender arms, but the fabric was still warm from Yongguk's body, and the elder man could have sworn he saw Junhong smile as he nestled into it. It hung down around his mid-thigh but did little to offer him modesty and soon Yongguk was taking the towel from his hands to secure around his waist with a knot.

 

“Do I look like island-folk now?” Junhong laughed, pulling away to step tip-toed across the rock.

 

Yongguk joined him in his mirth and nodded his head, “You look like a fisherboy.”

 

It wasn't much further until Junhong was steering them from the rocks towards the grass and together they slipped between the trees. The wood here was not thick like it was on the mainland, and even in the denser forests every plant seemed stunted by the harsher ocean wind, and their bark was rough and grey. Leaves lay rotting on the ground between twisted roots while a few still desperately clung to the branches that supported them, refusing to submit to the changing season. Yongguk watched Junhong's back ahead of him, observing the way he walked with uncertainty on his strong and slender legs while his fingers fiddled constantly with the clothing that donned his body. His salt-stiff hair had dried and it now brushed against his nape as he tilted his head to take in the sounds of calling birds, and the smells of earth and wood that surrounded him. It seemed so odd to Yongguk, the way the strange boy gazed around as though everything was new and foreign.

 

“So which island did you say you're from?” He called ahead, stepping over a log and wincing as he heard sticks crack beneath Junhong's bare feet.

 

“I didn't say.” The boy glanced over his shoulder. He didn't seem to be in pain, nor any discomfort as he offered the elder man a smile, “I grew up all around these parts. On this island a little, too.”

 

“But you don't live here now?” Yongguk pressed.

 

“Not really.” The trees in front of them were beginning to thin out again and soon a clearing was opening up. Junhong paused just behind the tree line and Yongguk easily caught up to him and together they stepped out into a field of blossoming chrysanthemums.

 

Petals of orange brushed against those of crimson in the swaying breeze, twining the warm hues together. There were some blossoms of rich purples and pinks, others that were far brighter than that but all of them were beautiful in their arch towards the sun, begging for any light they could receive. Yongguk had never seen so many of the Autumn flower growing wild before and the beauty of each unique plant was overwhelming as they grew, twisting and moving as one. From his side Junhong stepped forward and hesitantly, the boy reached out to brush his fingers over the petals in the flower's centre that furled inwards, testing the soft and velvety texture beneath his fingertips.

 

“Chrysanthemums.” Yongguk said, following him soon after.

 

“What?” Junhong turned back towards him, eyes alight with excitement.

 

“The flowers. They're chrysanthemums.” The elder man provided, lips turned down in surprise that such a word seemed so unfamiliar to the boy's ears.

 

“They're beautiful.” Junhong breathed out and Yongguk could only nod in agreement. Not far from where Junhong explored there was a rock and Yongguk lowered himself down to be upon it with his satchel dropped by his side. Calloused fingers clipped open the clasp and he withdrew his work book and the pencils that had been so carefully wrapped within the towel now securely tied around Junhong's naked waist. With a sunset of flowers before him, Yongguk again touched his first pencil to paper and he drew.

 

It didn't take long for Junhong to disappear between the tall growing plants, only his head of knotted black hair and shoulders wrapped in Yongguk's coat were visible. Every now and then, the elder man lifted his eyes and watched the way the odd boy would smell the un-scented blossoms and smile as though they were the most exquisite perfume he had sampled, or the way his head would lift and his gaze would follow birds that took flight from the surrounding branches to swoop down low and catch grasshoppers or butterflies that weren't quite quick enough for them.

 

Maybe it should concern him, how easily he could settle in Junhong's presence. The boy was after all a stranger, an enigma and yet Yongguk was content to watch over him as he explored a world that seemed so foreign to him. Junhong appeared in all ways to be human, but therein lay the trick. As he watched the boy turn his eyes towards the sun and reach a finger out as though to touch it, Yongguk knew no mere mortal was capable of bearing anyone so beautiful.

 

There, in the clearing, it was so quiet that Yongguk could hear the sound of lead scratching against paper. He wiped away pencil dust from the page with the side of his hand and grabbed another, adding dimension to a stalk, then the leaves and shadow that fell behind. It was getting late already, and the sky was beginning to dim but still he tilted his head and aimed to perfect his work, to capture this image, this feeling.

 

Yongguk only lifted his eyes from his work when a pair of bare feet stopped before him. Junhong's fingers were curled into his sleeves, his brows knotted and eyes dark with confusion as he watched Yongguk's hand still against the page, “You made flowers.” He said, glancing with uncertainty up at the elder man, then dropping his gaze back.

 

“Yeah...” Yongguk said. He lowered his hand down to press against the page, his lips quirked, “I'm an artist. I draw and paint things like this.”

 

Junhong blinked and looked down again, hesitating before he asked, “Can you show me how?”

 

Yongguk shifted on the rock and made room for Junhong at his side. A breeze was picking up around him as he flipped to a blank page and started something new. At first, he sketched the outline of the towering rocks, their angled peaks meeting in the sky, then he set the pencils down to exchange it with one of a deep blue and he added the rocking curve of the waves. Junhong watched, mesmerised, as Yongguk created a world on the page but just as the elder man was about to add the beginning shape of a boy, he stilled at his side.

 

Junhong lifted his head, his indigo eyes looking back the way they had come and his full lips parting. Together in unison, they sucked in slow draws of oxygen and released them through their noses, breathing each other in.

 

“I have to go.” Junhong said, pulling back to stand. He was already slipping his arms free of Yongguk's coat when the man stood.

 

“What? Why?” He asked, surprised at the sudden disappointment of Junhong's parting.

 

“The tide is turning.” The younger supplied. His tone spoke as though such a line would explain everything, but as Yongguk took his jacket back into his hands, he was only left further confused.

 

Junhong's fingers began to work at the knot holding the towel closed, and Yongguk stopped him, “Keep it... You'll need it to get back to the rocks.” He said, “Do you need me to help you get somewhere? You can't _swim_ back home.” Yongguk wasn't even sure where _home_ was for the odd boy, and Junhong simply smiled.

 

“Thank you, Yongguk.” He said, already beginning to walk back and between the trees, “I will see you again.”

 

Yongguk stood alone for a long time after Junhong had disappeared between the trees. His mind raced through everything he had seen, everything that had been said. Everything he did not understand.

 

When he finally left the clearing behind, he walked back towards Himchan's home along the sea-side path. By now, the reef upon which they had met was partly submerged by the rising tide, and Junhong was long gone.

 

*

 

The first of the rain had began to fall by the time Yongguk made it back to the house. He closed the front door with a muted click and looked curiously around but when neither sound nor movement met him, he assumed he was alone. In only a moment, he had slipped his feet from his shoes and set down his bag to be taken with him to his bedroom at a later time, and in the privacy of the seemingly empty house, he chose to explore.

 

The rooms were wide, and the large windows built into nearly every wall brightened them and reminded any inside constantly of the stunning landscape that surrounded them. The walls were built from chestnut trees, and a strange array of paintings and photographs hung haphazardly from nails embedded in the beams. Yongguk glanced over a framed image of Himchan from years before, his hair cropped in a military style and his spine straight as he stood beside a man Yongguk did not recognise. He was slightly smaller with a curved spine, but his eyes shone with the pride of a father and his arm was secure around Himchan's middle. Another portrait was of a brightly-smiling woman, her arm secure around a child's middle as they played together in the sand. The little boy's fists were curled tightly around a shell, his eyes almost shut as he smiled so wide with a hat perched lop-sided on his head of black hair and Yongguk knew it was unmistakably his friend.

 

Briefly, he wondered why Himchan had never changed the house, nor removed his parents things to make this home his own. Yongguk stepped into the hallway and his sock-clad feet were silent as he passed by more photos and portraits, and small shelves holding knick knacks from old shells to even older figures of tiny ships. Not too far ahead, the hallway became the kitchen and only then did Yongguk notice Jongup.

 

He was standing by the window, staring out to sea with arms folded across his chest. The clothes he wore again appeared to be Himchan's and his body beneath stood relaxed and so still that Yongguk wondered how he had noticed him at all. From where he could not see, Yongguk heard movement and Himchan appeared behind the younger man, hands finding his hips then slipping around to secure his arms tight around his very middle and lips pressed against the back of his neck.

 

“What are you thinking about?” Himchan's mouth moved against the skin before him, placing kisses between words.

 

“Home.” Jongup replied.

 

Himchan's palm flexed and relaxed just beneath Jongup's shirt, planting its self against his concealed stomach and his chin rested upon Jongup's shoulder to follow his gaze out to sea, “You know where I keep it.” The elder man said, his voice quiet, “If you wished to return, I would never hide it from you. I wouldn't stop you, either.”

 

Slowly, Jongup turned his head and his sea-storm eyes gazed upon Himchan. The corner of his lips tugged upwards and he offered the man a sad smile, “I chose my path, Himchan.”

 

“I don't want you to regret choosing the island.” This confession earned him a press of mouth against mouth and in silence, Yongguk watched them kiss.

 

“I did not choose the island. I chose you.” Jongup's palm found Himchan's cheek and they drew one another closer as the rain outside began to grow.

 

Without disturbing them, Yongguk crept back through the house and once again opened the door only to close it, wincing at his dishonesty when Himchan called, “Yongguk?” Footsteps approached down the hall, and as Yongguk shrugged his coat from his shoulders Himchan met him at the door, “'Bout time you came back. I was beginning to wonder if you'd been swept out to sea or something.” His palm clapped Yongguk on the back.

 

“Sorry, I guess I lost track of time.” He chuckled, glancing towards his friend. Out of the corner of his eye, Yongguk saw Jongup lingering in the doorway, watching them silently.

 

“Were you down at the beach?” Himchan asked as he began to lead him back towards the kitchen.

 

“For some of the time, yeah.” Yongguk's brows furrowed and his lips turned down in thought, “I actually met someone. A boy, maybe in his late teens or early twenties.”

 

“What's his name?” Himchan asked. He opened the fridge and grabbed out a beer, and after a brief exchange of eye contact got another for Yongguk.

 

“Junhong.” Across the room, Yongguk noticed the way Jongup went deathly still at the mention of the name, and his head turned just slightly to listen.

 

“I don't know the name, he must've come in from one of the other islands. Where'd you meet him?” Himchan's palm pressed to the bottle cap and twisted to pop off with a satisfying sound, Yongguk did the same.

 

“On the rocks beyond the beach.” The mouth of the bottle pressed to Yongguk's lips and he tilted his head back to take a long sip. Meeting Junhong had been both surreal and bizarre, he could not even begin to describe it to his dearest friend but before he could try, his eyes met Jongup's. The storm-eyes were dark and formidable like the ocean its self, and in them was a request for silence.

 

“Aah some of the kids of nearby islands go there at low tide. Some oysters grow wild around the reef, they go diving for them.” Himchan said with a wave of his hand, and Yongguk merely nodded in agreement.

 

Behind the clouds, the sky grew dim and only a few rays of dying sun broke through the barrier to reflect of the chopping waves. White peaks of spray and foam washed over the top, no doubt drawing in more of the island's debris as the tide once again took over the beach and made everything disappear. Yongguk had always loved the way rain fell into the ocean, like tiny pearls breaking through the surface to combine fresh and salt water. When he had been small, before his family had returned to the mainland he sometimes wandered down to the sea to watch it, like everything was becoming one. He hadn't talked much in those days, it had worried his parents for sure, he still had the faintest whisper of a memory to prove that. They'd been in the kitchen, after both he and his twin were put to bed muttering together about how he would not utter a word, not to the teachers nor the other children at school, not even to his brother. Instead, he clutched pencils tight in his fist and drew, both what he felt and what he thought, what he didn't know the words to say. Yongguk guessed it wasn't so different now.

 

“You still smoke?” The painter asked, and Himchan smiled. He gestured with his head towards the door.

 

“Not really. I'll come out with you, though.” He lead Yongguk towards the door and together they stepped out into the evening air. If it were any warmer, the rain would have been oppressive, but instead Yongguk found the fresh scent of renewal soothing. Not far from the door and beneath the kitchen window was a low seat, built from the dark island wood, and with weather stained cushions spread across the frame. Himchan took a seat first and exhaled, his arm along the rest and his beer still secure in his hands. His forefinger scratched against the label, just as it had the night before. Yongguk wondered if it was a developed habit.

 

“When'd you stop?” Yongguk asked as he slipped his hand into his left pocket to withdraw his pouch and lighter, then took seat beside Himchan.

 

“A year or so ago.” The man said with a hum, “My mum always hated me smoking. After she died, I stopped.”

 

Yongguk nodded. He flipped open the top of his pouch and withdrew a filter and placed it between his lips, then a single sheet of waxed paper to pinch between his fore and middle fingers, “You smoked like a chimney.” Yongguk commented, glancing sidelong at his friend.

 

Himchan chuckled, “Which was the best reason for me to quit.”

 

“You weren't the only one. I think we all smoked too much. Wasn't much else to do in our free time.” Yongguk added. From between his chapped lips, he put the filter down against the paper, sitting it stationary in the groove he had creased into the sheet. It was an art he had perfected many years before. While doing their service they'd had little access to cigarette packs, it had been a luxury for whenever they were released on break.

 

“Not like our time off was ever long enough to do anything anyway.” Himchan snorted. There had been three days one summer, they'd been in Busan. It wasn't enough time to make the lengthy trips home, so they spent it together, drinking too much, smoking even more. First, they'd thought to explore the city, it was their first time and although stuck in uniform, it was an adventure. Himchan had wanted to visit every bar by the beach, Yongguk was dragged with him as baggage and the rest of their platoon tagging along. Most were excited by the prospect of women, feeling cocky in their military greens and convinced it would escalate their chances of finding someone to love them for the night. Yongguk hadn't blamed them, it had been a lonely few months that they'd been kept mostly to themselves, the idea of touching another was a thrill to them all and although they all claimed a hunger for sex, he knew deep down what they craved was to be held.

 

It had just been the two of them by the end of the night, the others had somehow found their way into stranger's beds, or given up and returned to their own. They had walked down to the harbour, soju in hand, fags between their lips and they had been singing. Yongguk couldn't remember what, but he was sure they had been off-key and mostly shouting, probably waking up half the city in their volume but it had been the most fun they'd had in months. When they got to the beach they stumbled and tripped, Himchan had fallen into the sand and they had laughed until they were wheezing and crying, hands clutching at each other for support while they attempted to drag one another down towards the lapping waves. It was there that they watched the sun rise, alone and together and how they'd already decided to stay. Neither knew that less than a week later they would be pulled apart.

 

With the filter held in place, Yongguk pinched some dry tobacco between his thumb and forefinger to sprinkle down the crease. He folded the paper over, rubbing the sides together to roll the leaf down and push it further together just as he'd learned early on. It had been Himchan who taught him, late in the evenings of their first few weeks before they'd really known one another. He had seemed so foreign at first, from his little island far away and it was the first time Yongguk had ever felt like a sheltered city boy.

 

“You're good at it.” Himchan observed as Yongguk slid his tongue over the edge of the paper to stick it down, completing the smoke.

 

“I was taught by the best.” He replied.

 

“Sometimes I think the military feels so recent.” Himchan noted, leaning back in the seat, bringing his beer to his lips, “But basic training feels like a lifetime ago.”

 

“It was.” Yongguk agreed. He flicked the lighter with his thumb and held his cigarette between his lips to light the end behind a shielding hand. With a slow drag, he took the smoke down to the very base of his lungs, hating the relief it gave him, “I expected to hate it.”

 

“Same.” Himchan snorted, “We went through a lot together. You were determined to be my hyung.”

 

“And you were determined to be a shithead about it.” Yongguk sent him a look, exhaling smoke from his nose.

 

“Oh please, Bbang, you're not even three weeks older than me.” The reply came in a good-hearted scoff.

 

“Well you behaved like it was three years.” Yongguk chuckled, took another drag, held his breath. Maybe the sea breeze wasn't the only thing that soothed his lungs.

 

Himchan shook his head and his smile fell, “A lot happened in those few years. I guess looking back the bad distorts the good.”

 

In his peripheral vision, Yongguk could see the way Himchan glanced down at his right leg. “There are some memories, though, that never faded.”

 

“Busan?” Himchan pulled his gaze away.

 

Yongguk snorted, “Busan.” He confirmed. They sat like that in silence a little longer, smoking and drinking, like they used to. Yongguk alternated drags of his cigarette with sips of his beer and he gazed out to sea. It was dark by now with only the faintest sunlight glow skimming against the horizon, but still he watched the way the waves rocked in the shadows, still able to sparkle even in the minimal light as rain continued to fall.

 

“You never told me where you were going.” Yongguk said finally. He tapped his thumb against the end of his cigarette, letting the ash fall and get swept away by the breeze.

 

“When?” Himchan asked.

 

“You know when.”  
  


The younger took in a slow breath through his nose, eyes fixed to the horizon, “I wasn't leaving the base, if that's what you want to know.” He brought his beer to his lips, took a sip, continued, “I was going to one of the other camps. It was quicker to climb through the fence and cross the civilian road rather than go around, that's where I was caught. I know I could have told the truth, said where I was going and who I was meeting but... I wanted to leave him out of it. I thought being separated from you for a few days would be better than getting him in the line of fire.”

 

“ _Him_?” Yongguk glanced to the side.

 

“Park Wontaek. We were sleeping together.” The confession seemed so easy for him to say, but Yongguk knew it had taken almost three years of courage. Himchan glanced back over his shoulder and into the kitchen, Yongguk assumed in search of Jongup. The room was empty.

 

“And if you'd confessed going to see him...” Yongguk's tone was knowing.

 

“Dishonourable discharge. For the both of us. We weren't in love or anything but... His family were religious, mine traditional. It wasn't worth throwing everything away.” Himchan's smile was taught and he swallowed thickly, “I never... I didn't think anything would happen.”

 

“It was their fault for pairing me with Shin. He wasn't as advanced as us, they tasked him at my level, not at his own.” Yongguk's hand found Himchan's shoulder and squeezed, “You did what you did to protect someone.”

 

“And in turn I fucked you over.” Yongguk snorted. Only the very last of his cigarette still burned and he took the final drag, then leant over to distinguish the butt against the verandah floor.

 

“So you were getting some that whole year.” He tipped his head back, downing the rest of his beer.

 

“If you weren't pining away for whoever it was you had out of the military, I would've helped you find someone, too.” Himchan nudged at his ribs, then hesitated. He finished his own drink, glanced to his side, “What happened... With her, I mean?”

 

Yongguk snorted, “If you want me to get into that, I'll need another cigarette.”

 

Himchan smiled, taking the pouch from where it sat between them, “Then allow me.” Yongguk ran his hands through his own hair, he kept it short and had ever since the military. He'd grown so used to it that way.

 

“There isn't much to say.” He commented, glancing to where Himchan was tucking tobacco into the crease and rolling the paper together, “Grand promises of forever fell through. It was mostly my fault, I was depressed, directionless. He'd made plans for our future but all I wanted to do was sleep and drink and smoke.”

 

The younger lifted his eyes at the pronoun and his lips twitched upwards, but he allowed Yongguk to continue, “He ended up finding someone else while I was too busy stewing in my misery.”

 

“His loss.” Himchan chuckled, holding the freshly rolled cigarette out to Yongguk, “I can't believe it took us nearly four years to come out.”

 

“I can't believe you haven't told me that you and Jongup are a couple yet.” Yongguk leant forward to light his smoke. It was a strangely still night, given the rain.

 

Himchan barked out laughter, his nose wrinkling and his fingers pressing into his eyes, “Fuck.” He groaned out, Yongguk joining in his laughter. He tipped his head back and rested it against the windowsill, gazing out to sea.

 

“What's waiting for you in Seoul?” Himchan asked.

 

“Responsibility. My parents are starting to push. Marriage, _'proper career,'_ moving on with life. My brother's had a partner for a good few years now, so's my sister. I just needed to be away from the city.” Yongguk glanced towards him, “I wanted room to breathe, and to paint.”

 

“Stay as long as you want.” Himchan smiled to him warmly, “Family is always welcome.”

 

Through his nose, Yongguk again took in the sea as ash fell again from his cigarette. The moon had began to peak through the clouds, bouncing off the waves that moved constantly with an ebbing force invisible to their eyes. For a moment, Yongguk could have sworn he saw something break the surface, but it was gone again before he could make sure.

 

“Where does the seal colony live?” He asked and Himchan followed his gaze.

 

“On the skerry. You can see them sometimes, sunbathing on the beach or hanging out on the reef when the tide is low enough for it to be above sea level but for the most part they stick to open water. The people around here used to hunt them for their meat, they learned to keep away.” Himchan yawned behind his hand.

 

“The story those women told me.” Yongguk said. His nail dragged over the empty beer bottle in his hand, feeling the moulded glass were it was raised or flat, brushing over the lettering that signified brand, “About the sea-children. Do people around here believe it?”

 

Himchan was silent for a long time and together they listened to the rhythm of the ocean, the sound of waves crashing against the disappearing beach and Yongguk was sure the tide would be at its highest soon. It had always been like magic to him, the way the moon dragged the water and changed the shape of the land that held the sea at bay. Himchan's palms were pressed together and he leant forward to touch his elbows against his knees, “Some do, mostly the older people. That's part of the reason why people stopped hunting the seals, fishermen were scared they'd cut one open and find a woman inside.” He looked up, out towards the open water, “Boats never sail too close to the skerry, most think it's bad luck but some say they've seen people out there sitting naked between the seals. I've heard stories here and there, there are rumours about some families on the island having bred with the sea-children, too.”

 

“And what do you think about it?” Yongguk watched as Himchan straightened in his seat and waved a hand.

 

“I don't think about it.” He said, then rose to stand, “It's getting late. I'm gonna head inside before it gets too cold. See where Jongup's gotten to.”

 

Yongguk watched as Himchan grabbed his empty bottle, but he did not move, “You go, I'm going to stay out here for a little longer.”

 

Himchan nodded his head once. For a moment, he just stood there, but then he smiled, “I'm glad you came down, Yongguk.”

 

“I am, too.” The elder replied. When Himchan went in, Yongguk set down his bottle and pushed aside his pouch. He stayed there for a long time after the others went to bed, content in his own company with his eyes focused on the skerry that sat just before the horizon like a shadow in the sea.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so lucky to have my amazingly talented friend and reader Nana create stunning fan art for this work, you can find it [here](http://artby07.tumblr.com/post/154061935014/my-interprentation-of-a-scene-from-a-really-cool) (and more of her art [here.](http://onlybanglo.tumblr.com/)) All seaweeds (sea oak, neptune's pearls and kelp) and sea creatures mentioned are real. If you are ever interested in the images I draw inspiration from in my descriptions, check out [this!](http://chngminxo.tumblr.com/tagged/tides)  
> I consider myself so incredibly lucky to have such a kind group of people reading my stories. Thank you all so much for your support, whether I know you or not.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed x 
> 
> (also don't smoke smoking is bad thIS FIC ISN'T ENCOURAGING ANYONE TO SMOKE DON'T TRY THIS AT HOME)


	3. Chapter 3

When dawn came, Himchan left. Yongguk had been laying in limbo between consciousness and sleep with only the vague rhythm of footsteps reaching him. Conversation was muffled downstairs and his sleep-addled mind couldn't draw meaning from the whispered sounds as his eyes flicked from side to side behind his eyelids, taking in the hazy golden glow of the early morning light that shone through the window and over his face. It was warm, pleasantly so, the breeze was whistling steadily outside and he couldn't quite tell if he was dreaming.

 

Downstairs, the front door fell shut and the only sound Yongguk heard was the call of ocean birds, and the crashing of waves against not-too-distant sand. Carefully he rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow as his right leg shifted and stretched out as far as it could reach. For the first few months after the accident he would wake up to the slow burn of a phantom pain that shot like agony through the toes that no longer existed to him and over the arch of a foot towards an invisible ankle and calf. It had been explained to him again and again, nerve memory, healing tendons, broken muscle, disconnected bone, but still every morning he would tremble under the torture and suffer the card life had dealt him.

 

It wasn't like that anymore. Now it was nothing.

 

His eyes opened and through his nose he exhaled. The house appeared empty, but he guessed it wasn't any indication as to whether Jongup was there or not. It was strange to him, how Himchan found love in the most unlikely of places. When they had been serving together, all Himchan would talk about is his desperation to leave the secluded island, and his excitement for a life in the city. Yongguk would never forget the childlike wonder in Himchan's eyes the first time they walked together through Seoul. Before then, his idea of _big_ had been Mokpo or Yeosu, both of which appeared like small fishing towns to Yongguk, all rickety buildings and unkept streets.

 

“ _I'm never going back.”_ Himchan had said with wide eyes. His tongue was tinged by the ocean, he spoke a dialect Yongguk had never heard before as he turned his head, taking in the sounds and smells and the lights all tangling together into a sensory overload. Yongguk had laughed and clapped him on the back. In those days he hadn't understood why anyone would want to live anywhere but Seoul, with it's bright lights and brighter opportunity.

 

The idea of Himchan settling down was not foreign to him, rather it was expected. Although his excitement was easily triggered, he cared deeply of those in his heart, and Yongguk had little doubt that Himchan would fall in love like a fairy tale and stumble into a happily ever after. In his mind, Yongguk had imagined a dazzling young woman, all sunlit smiles and twinkling laughter. She would be driven and intelligent, but she would have a softness about her, and Himchan would melt under the warmth of her love and fall to pieces in his determination to make her his. The fact that Jongup was a man didn't phase Yongguk, he guessed it made sense when he thought back to their nights drinking together years before, instead it was his silence. Though, Yongguk did not know the boy as dearly as Himchan did himself. He was sure there had to be something beyond his beautiful face and ocean-voice that kept Himchan bound to the island.

 

Across the room, the breeze was causing his shutters to rattle and Yongguk knew he could no longer force himself to feign sleep. He pushed himself up to sit and swung his leg over the edge of the bed, then reached for his prosthetic where it leant against the bedside table. There was a mirror directly across from where he was, but he couldn't look. He didn't want to see the way his knees brushed together like twins but while one continued down in a strong and muscled shin, the other ended prematurely in a grotesque stump. After the years that had passed, it had healed and grown smooth and even, as though it had been by design that no shin nor ankle nor foot was there. Yet he hated it. More than anything in this world, he hated it.

 

With minimal struggle, he slipped his knee through the silicone liner and followed it with the fibreglass shell that protected the socket from damage. When he stood, a click sounded to show the pin fastening into place and he took in a deep breath through his nose. The first few times it had taken him longer to get it comfortable and fitting right, now it was just as simple as pulling on his pants or choosing a shirt. Back then the frustration had built and it weighed down his fingers and resulting in his throwing the prosthetic across the room. That afternoon his partner had returned home to find Yongguk had not moved from bed, and their wide bedroom mirror was smashed into a thousand pieces by the weight of fibreglass and metal and the force of Yongguk's self-hatred. He guessed maybe time did heal things after all, and just because his leg would never be one of them did not mean his heart wouldn't either.

 

Yongguk grabbed his bag from where he had dropped it and upturned it onto his bed. He sorted through the rattle of pencils, all uneven in size and length, setting them aside to instead replace them with another box, this one of water colours and paints. The workbook that had fallen onto his pillow was shoved back into the satchel, followed by his new box of favoured tools. His fingers moved to fasten the clasp closed, but he hesitated, remembered Junhong the day before naked and shining with ocean wet. Over his shoulder, he looked towards the simple cupboard with the mirror door and left his bag open to gather a handful of things. The shirt he grabbed would be too big on the boy's slight frame, the boxers baggy enough to act as shorts on his slender legs. Junhong's height had been deceiving, the boy was all thin-limbs and narrow hips, he would be swimming in Yongguk's clothing, but he would be warm.

 

Once he had shoved the clothing in, he closed his bag with a click and swung it over his shoulder, grabbing an apple from the kitchen counter on his way out the door and dropping it into the pocket of his coat. It was still so early and the suns rays felt soft on his skin, barely warming him at all. He made towards the path while fastening his coat, the wind was blowing in from the east, over the rocks and reef he had crossed the day before. Long grass was forced almost flat by the weight of the wind, and Yongguk's hair was blown into his eyes, guiding his head to turn west towards the part of the island he had yet to venture towards. The town was in the opposite direction and ahead of him was an untamed wilderness that extended out onto a headland, trimmed the whole way with ocean rocks.

 

His feet began to carry him before his mind caught up and he started towards the line of forest. It was slightly denser to the west but between the tightly growing trees he could see the hint of light, promise of the open beyond. Sticks crunched beneath his shoes and his palms pressed to the rough bark that sat dry and flaking, the only protection the plant had from the harsh ocean wind and unforgiving salt that threatened to draw forth any moisture it clung to. Leaves lay rotting between tangled roots and the vacant shells of long-dead cicadas still clung on to the trees, their backs split open from when the creatures emerged from the earth months before and took their chance to fly. Between his thumb and forefinger, Yongguk picked one off the trunk. Three of its six legs broke off in the movement, two falling down into the leaf litter below while one remained clung on to the splitting bark. Yongguk knew it would be easy to crush the almost-translucent abdomen and thorax in his palm, watch the thin film that had once covered a set of eyes burst open to be left gaping and raw. He wouldn't though, even if it had been months since all life had left the exoskeleton behind. This was the only remaining part of a creature whose body and brain had decayed long ago, he would not destroy that.

 

The cicada shell was placed back on a branch, it would remain there until a creature took fancy in it, or the wind in its lifting force blew the body away to be crushed and trampled under foot, and he continued on. As he had predicted, it was only twenty metres or so until he was emerging onto a hill of rolling grass, tumbling downwards into the water. Here, the rocks were not as large, nor was their structure as complex. They appeared to be nothing more than the earth that the island had rejected, simply waiting to be taken by the sea. Yongguk's lips quirked and he looked out, on the horizon was the shape of a ship, white and large and disfigured by the sea haze. He assumed it was heading south towards Jeju, maybe even further than that, but from where he stood, it seemed as though it were being swallowed down by the sea and the sky.

 

Running alongside the edge was a path. It was not as worn as the one that lay east, but the grass there was dented and patches of earth showed through, so he followed it around the curved headland. The sky he walked towards was filled with billowing clouds that rose like fortresses in the sky, all white and soft but holding a silent power none could deny. Ever since Yongguk had been small, he had wondered what they might be hiding, whether there were in fact castles hidden in the sky, civilisations unknown to anyone. The line between dreams and reality was thin, he knew, and there were some things in this world that walked it, without residing on one side nor the other.

 

From below, he heard a splash and it drew him from his thoughts. He hadn't noticed the rocks had grown wider, piled on top of each other with pools between them concealing life. One rock was wide and flat and tucked at its edge was clothing folded and set beside a wicker basket that was damp with ocean spray and holding a small selection of a few oysters that had been torn from the rock. From the reef emerged a body, lithe limbed and strong muscled and then a head broke the surface. Jongup lifted his hand and pushed his hair back from his eyes, blinking against the sun as he took in deep breaths of oxygen. Yongguk watched as his other hand lifted to drop more oysters in the basket, kicking his legs to keep himself afloat. Tan hands gripped the rock and Jongup lifted himself naked back onto land to sit at the very edge. He carded his hands through the basket, seemingly unafraid of the oysters sharp edges and pursed his lips in thought. His feet swung slowly through the water as it lapped at the edge, unashamed in his nudity, natural in the sea.

 

Slowly, he stood up, shaking his head to flick his damp hair from his eyes, then once again he dove into the water. His body was streamlined as he disappeared into the depths, his kicking legs powerful and Yongguk thought he had never before seen anything look so instinctive to a human being. Jongup looked as though he had learned to swim before he had learned to walk, and he couldn't stop his wondering mind from travelling too far away from reason, or science.

 

This time, when Jongup's head broke through the surface, his sea-green eyes found Yongguk. With a schooled expression, he tossed more oysters into his basket and lifted himself above water, “How long have you been watching me?” He asked, his voice carried by the sea breeze. Around here they were sheltered from the wind that had been crushing the east.

 

“Only a minute or so.” Yongguk replied. Slowly, he made his way down onto the rock behind Jongup, respectfully averting his gaze when the younger man stood and reached for his towel. His eyes watched the gently rocking waves, giving Jongup privacy as he continued, “When I woke up the house was empty.”

 

“Himchan had to go to the mainland.” Jongup explained. When Yongguk glanced to him, he was wearing pants with the towel rubbing through his wet hair. It no longer seemed worth noticing that the clothes he wore were undoubtedly Himchan's.

 

“For work?” He watched the way Jongup dropped the towel back onto the stone and reached for his shirt. He didn't put it on, though, he merely held it in his palm with slender fingers wrapping around it. The boy glanced to him and only offered him a nod in reply.

 

Not far away, a gull dove into the water to catch a fish that swam too close to the surface and Yongguk sucked in a breath, “Was the water cold?”

 

“It always is this time of year. It'll only get colder.” Jongup said, grabbing his basket. “What are you doing out?”

 

“Looking around. Trying to find somewhere to paint.” Yongguk said, watching as Jongup's hands curved around the handles of his basket and he lifted it, swinging his towel and shirt over his shoulder, “What is around the headland?”

 

“Another beach.” Jongup said, gesturing with his head, “It's bigger than the one near our house, but it is also wilder.”

 

“Wilder?” Yongguk quirked an eyebrow, and Jongup's lips again twitched.

 

“I am heading that way. I'll take you.” He said, and already he was starting off in that direction.

 

Yongguk watched as goosebumps rose on Jongup's skin but he did not shiver or show any sign of discomfort, he merely continued on with the elder man following. Behind them, the low drawl of a ship foghorn sounded, echoing across the ocean and both men stopped to turn their heads. It was the ship, teetering on the edge of the world, hardly visible anymore. Jongup's lips turned down into a frown as he surveyed the unnatural impurity that blemished the horizon. Up close, the ship would have been huge enough to carry hundreds across broad oceans. It was the kind of ship that seemed so mammoth it was unreal, like a toy made out of scale, but there surrounded by the sea it was nothing.

 

“It makes me feel so tiny and insignificant.” Yongguk remarked, “The ocean.”

 

Jongup's head turned from the ship to instead look at Yongguk, “You are, when compared to it.” He said, “Everything is.”

 

Together they continued forward, Jongup barefoot, Yongguk wrapped tightly in a coat. In the past few minutes Jongup had spoken more to him than he had in the days Yongguk had been there, and the elder man could not quite get enough of the ocean-rich resonance of his voice. His teeth were somewhat crooked, his full mouth pressed into a continuous pout and his long-lashed eyes beautiful in their unusual colour. A small mole blemished his nose and his golden skin practically glowed in the daylight. Something about him did not quite seem real, and yet if Yongguk reached forward his hand would find muscle and flesh, the steady bones of a strong young man.

 

“Are there other people living near here?” Yongguk asked, his eyes turning back towards the land beside them.

 

“No. The island-folk don't come to this side, it's too close to the skerry.” Jongup said, lips brushing together. The term he used caused Yongguk pause and with dark eyes he watched the younger man as he leapt cross a gap between the larger boulders, landing with grace and balance. His head turned and their eyes met for a moment, until Yongguk followed.

 

“I understand the reason behind avoiding the skerry. People can be so afraid of their own fiction, but why avoid the beach?” Yongguk frowned.

 

“You ask a lot of questions.” Jongup observed.

 

“I like understanding.” Yongguk replied.

 

“Not everything needs to be understood. Some things just are, and that should be enough.” The whipping wind blew Jongup's hair across his eyes, but he only blinked as his feet took purchase on the next rock, brushing against strands of Neptune's Necklace that lay exposed and drying.

 

“What I wish to understand is the fear the people still hold. Bogil is built as though it is hiding from the sea, it seems to do everything it can to disassociate its self with it.” Yongguk continued, shaking his head.

 

“They still tell stories in the town, you know, about the seal-people and their stealing of hearts. Always innocent men whose lives are ruined by the salt and the spray and the stunning smile of an ocean-child. No sympathy is given to the stolen girl kept prisoner from her brothers and sisters and the only world she has ever known.” Jongup fell still when he made it to the peak of a boulder, turning his head, “Maybe they are hiding from the ocean its self, wide and terrifying and unable to be defined by their books, maybe it is an avoidance of the guilt they feel knowing that their ocean-brides yearn for the sea they were torn from without a second's thought.”

 

Spread out before them was another beach, wide with pale sand and curved to shelter it from any wind. He was staring for a long time before he noticed the seals. They basked like islands at the surface, just behind the swell to warm their rounded bellies in the sun. Others ventured further in to chase the fish that darted just at the edge of the shore, believing they avoided the predatory ventures of the larger mammals. To Yongguk it looked as though they were surfing the waves, playing together where the sea met the land.

 

“Lust is the sword the people of this island have used for generations to tear the ocean apart and yet it is the innocent who are blamed for the crimes of which they are victim.” Jongup said with his eyes following the playing seals, “In their tales the people of Bogil too readily call words like bewitchment, like a creature robbed of their skin is at fault for the greed that results in their imprisonment. When their ocean-brides and half-children disappear in the night, they spin tales of curses and revenge, as though the rising tides and eroding salt are due to an anger undeserved.”

 

“Were you told these stories as a boy?” Yongguk asked and Jongup laughed.

 

“The stories I was told were of love and of life, not of shackles. I did not learn to fear the ocean, I learned to embrace it and to be one with it.” His head turned and tilted back, his lips spread into a crooked smile, “After all in the end, everything must return to the sea.”

 

With the rhythm of crashing waves beside them, the seals turned again and together they drew back towards the skerry. Jongup watched them go with brightened eyes and parted lips, and Yongguk realised it was the first time he had seen Jongup really smile.

 

*

 

The day lurched into afternoon and again, Yongguk found himself on the rocks. The tide wasn't out the whole way yet, it would still be another few hours before the reef was fully exposed and all life had disappeared into hiding. He was pretending not to know the reason why he would return to these rocks, east of the house and around the island's bend. If he didn't admit it, it wouldn't be real, and he would hold on to that control for as long as he could.

 

When he had set out toward the bend, the beach had still been hidden by the lapping waves and so he chose instead to follow the worn path. The sight of the tide's withdraw was mesmerising in a way he had not expected, how every time the waves pulled out and flooded back that extra few inches of sand and stone were revealed. Near the edge, the water was the clearest and if he were closer he was sure he would see schools of small fish darting through clouds of sand, or pipis opening their shells just enough to suck nutrients from the water to feast on, before disappearing below ground again.

 

The winding path didn't follow the cliffs the whole way. At points it dipped between trees, at others it wound around the edges of small clearings, some of which seemed as though they had once been filled by buildings, maybe homes, maybe fisher's sheds. Nothing remained, however, other than rotting beams left covered by tall-growing grass, long since left to decay on the side of the island that people forgot. Whenever the path strayed close to the land's edge, old posts stood, some tilted by age and weather, cracks showing in the grain. Rusted wire was threaded through thin holes in each post, now hanging lax after age had caused it to snap somewhere along the line. The tips of his fingers brushed against it, noting the way it was rough and worn, with the top layers of metal flaking off. The salt was probably corroding it, he thought, like it corroded everything.

 

A seagull swooped down to land on the path in front of him, its webbed feet plodding against the earth and flattened grass, its head turning as it called into the breeze. It was a melancholy sound, high pitched and rounded and twisting with the sea. He wondered if it called to someone in particular, or whether it was the waves themselves that brought forth its song.

 

Behind the bird, the fence opened up. The earth beneath the post had eroded mostly away, leaving it slanted at an angle with its base encased in tall growing grass and reeds. The roots of those plants must have been tugging at its foundations, sending it closer and closer to the edge and it would not be long until it fell down onto the rocks below to be swallowed when the tide rose to its greatest height. When he got closer, the seagull took flight and he looked down, seeing the boulder he had rounded the day before, its base still submerged in water shallow enough for the weed below to be touching the surface and swaying in the waves.

 

He followed the path on a little further until he could step between the unsteady posts where the wire had thinned out a snapped. The rock plateau wasn't far below him, and he had carefully made his way down onto it until there was nothing between him and the sky but water.

 

From his shoulders, he shrugged off his bag and set it down by his feet, unclasping it to withdraw his notebook. He flipped it open and began flicking through the collection he had managed to create, some drawings of trees or buildings from when he was in Seoul, one of his sister sitting with their brother at a table. He remembered that night, he had joined her at her tattoo studio, she always said he was welcome. While she worked, he created, forming shapes and designs on his paper, wondering if any of them could join the collection he already had fused into his skin. They had that in common, their passion for art and for beauty. As children they would look through books of artworks from painters long-dead and marvel at the spectacularity of their creations, Yongguk remembered the very moment he had decided his body would be a gallery, every inch of it if his skin could take it. Narae had smiled and laughed, her eyes crinkling in the way they did when her grin was wide enough, it matched that of the twins as well.

 

His thumb brushed the paper, smudging out a line in her hair. The drawing wasn't finished, he had been interrupted when his brother had arrived and it had become abundantly clear that he hadn't been invited to Narae's studio because she wanted his company, rather for an intervention. _“We just worry, Yonggukie...”_ She'd said, he had noted how her concerned face was so alike their mother's. And that face was the reason why he hadn't visited _her_ in six months.

 

“ _We understand that it's been hard after the breakup.”_ Yongnam supplied, Narae sent him a glare over her shoulder. Yongguk hadn't looked up from his work book, though, his pencils still scratching against the paper, wondering if he ignored them long enough it would all go away. Their sister had reached over the table, her palm brushing against his knuckles to still his movements but all he'd done was suck in a breath and withdraw from her completely. It was just by chance that he'd found Himchan's number that day, desperate to flee, drowning in the city. He hadn't seen his siblings since.

 

“Are you making flowers again?” The voice caused him to jump, his head to turn quickly. Junhong was standing beside him with a tilted head. His skin was beaded with wet again, but this time his lower body was concealed by the towel Yongguk had given him the day before. The fabric seemed dirty, stiff with exposure to the salt and the very corner was brown and copper with the blood dried into the stitching just the day before.

 

Wind whipped Yongguk's hair into his eyes but he was smiling and he shook his head, “No, not flowers.” Slowly, he offered the page towards Junhong, as though any sudden movements would scare him away. The boy quirked an eyebrow and looked down at the page as he stepped barefoot across the rocks.

 

“Who is she?” He asked, reaching out to touch but pulling his hand back before he could.

 

“My sister.” Yongguk said, his smile growing tight.

 

“She is very beautiful.” Junhong noted. His gaze lifted and he smiled.

 

“She is.” Yongguk agreed, “I have a brother, too. A twin.”

 

“Is your brother beautiful too, Yongguk?” Junhong tipped his head.

 

“Well he looks like me.” Yongguk answered.

 

“So he is beautiful.” Junhong glanced back towards the paper, reaching out a second time and this time making contact. The tip of his finger left a trail of wet across the page but Yongguk didn't mind, even as it made the lead blossom and soften.

 

“Do you have siblings?” Junhong did not look up, he was mesmerised by the lines and shadows creating Narae's face.

 

“I do.” He said with a nod, “But I don't know how many. I've never counted.” Yongguk saw the beads of water tremble against Junhong's skin as the breeze brushed over them, some sliding further against his skin which was rising with goosebumps. The elder man glanced back down towards his bag and he bent over.

 

“I brought something for you.” He said, pushing aside his pencils, water, the brushes too, to find the shorts and shirt tucked underneath.

 

“For me?” Junhong blinked. He took hold of Yongguk's art book when it was passed to him, holding it tightly as though it were something precious. He guessed to someone else it might be, but to him it was a collection of his darkest thoughts and his loneliest nights. His release and his confessional.

 

Fingers curled into fabric and Yongguk pulled the clothing free, “You can't just wear that towel, it's freezing. Put these on.”

 

Junhong looked at the wad of colourless fabric with a curious eye and reached out with his right hand to take it. He unfurled the shirt with one hand and smiled as he looked at it, eyes crinkling as he emitted a laugh, “I will look like you, Yongguk.”

 

The elder man's lips curled and he nodded. Before he knew what he was doing, he stepped forward and took the art book from Junhong's hands to set it aside, dropping it down on the rock at their feet as he guided the shirt over the boy's head, “You will.”

 

Junhong stood still while Yongguk dressed him, his limbs pliant in the elder man's hands, but Yongguk could feel the muscle that was beneath his skin, the unseen power. With his bronze skin and radiant smile, Junhong could so easily be mistaken for the sun but instead Yongguk saw him as the moon. Ethereal in his beauty and underestimated in his strength.

 

“Are you sister and your brother far away?” Junhong asked once his head was through the neck hole. His almost-dry and salt-stiff hair was sticking out at weird angles, but Yongguk didn't want to touch it. He thought it looked perfect that way.

 

“They are in Seoul.” He replied. The boxers in his hand were offered out, so as not to make Junhong feel uncomfortable in his nudity, but exposure was not something Junhong had even noticed.

 

“In Seoul?” The word sounded so foreign on Junhong's tongue, as though placing him in any real world was wrong. The boy discarded his towel and slipped his legs through the boxers to drag them up to his waist, “Where is Seoul?”

 

Yongguk watched him, “A long way away, not on the ocean. It's beyond mountains and valleys.”

 

“Is it beautiful?” Junhong asked.

 

“Not as beautiful as here.” Yongguk didn't know if he was referring to the land around them, or the boy before him. He didn't want to think about that.

 

“If Seoul is far away, do you miss them?” Junhong bent over to grab the towel. He folded the corners together, touching the worn and filthy cloth as though it too were something very special. All things seemed so precious in Junhong's hands.

 

“Yes and no.” Yongguk said. He pulled back, just a little way, he didn't want to get too far, “Last time I saw them we had a fight. I don't know how much they would want to see me.”

 

With the towel still wrapped securely in his hands, Junhong made towards the edge of the rock. Yongguk grabbed his bag and swung it again over his shoulder, then followed. His lips twitched upwards somewhat. Yes, he thought, Junhong definitely was the moon, because Yongguk was caught like the pulling tides in his gravity.

 

“What did you fight about?” Junhong's voice was soft, Yongguk appreciated that, he seemed so hesitant to cause any pain. Their toes were teasing at the edge of the rock, Junhong's naked, Yongguk's covered and water lapped just centimetres below them. The wind was sharper than it had been in the days before, and the clouds that constantly hugged the horizon grew darker and more foreboding, a sign that November was passing and soon the white winds of December would reach the island. Yongguk turned his head and watched Junhong dip the tips of his toes into the water, shrugging a shoulder and watching the tanned skin as ocean blue washed against it.

 

“We fought about a couple of things.” Yongguk smiled somewhat tightly, lifting his gaze to see Junhong watching him, “I... Things in my life have not gone the way my family have wanted. If they had it their way I would be getting engaged around about now, maybe even married. They want me doing something _real_ with my life. They don't like me painting.”

 

A look of disbelief and incomprehension crossed the younger's face, “They don't like it when you make flowers?” He asked.

 

“They want me to make money instead.” Yongguk remarked, “They won't be happy until there is a diamond on the finger of some woman they approve of. They've never liked the way I live my life.”

 

The boy's gaze lit up and his lips spread into a smile over his straight teeth, “Diamond?” He asked, “Yongguk I don't know where I can find you a woman, or where I can find you money-” He said the word as though he wasn't quite sure what it was, “-but I know where there are diamonds.”

 

The painter opened his mouth, but the words did not make it out before a hand was sliding, soft and warm, into his and pulling him onwards and away, towards the eastern reef and somewhere beyond. Yongguk wasn't sure where Junhong was taking him, but he would follow. Maybe it should scare him, how willing he is to follow. At first, he stumbled when dragged behind the younger, but soon he levelled his footing. The hand in his felt familiar in a way he didn't fully understand, it felt right, and even as he found himself keeping up with Junhong, he couldn't quite find it in himself to slip his fingers free nor draw their palms apart.

 

Junhong stepped over a gap in the rock and paused on the other side to wait for Yongguk to follow him and neither spoke. It didn't feel as though they needed to. Not too far away, a dead bird lay rotting and half submerged in a dip in the stone, from where he was he couldn't see what kind. Its wings lay spread wide, as though it were wanting to take flight, but the flesh of its body was drawn back to expose its insides, mostly pulled from it with sharp teeth and keen hunger. Either weather or claws had pulled the skin from its neck and Yongguk looked over the natural symmetry that made every vertebra link together into a spine, while its feathers, tattered and weather worn, were tousled by the wind. Yongguk wondered where it had been flying from, maybe the mainland in the mountains, or north of there to North Korea or China, maybe even as far as Siberia. Wherever it was, it was a long way to fly only to meet death.

 

The tide had not yet drawn fully out, Yongguk was sure. He looked over to where the water still lapped at the edge of the rocks, small drops of spray landing in dips and grooves where periwinkles clustered close together in protection, the way a family should. Narae and Yongnam used to do the same, the three of them were always a united force against their parents, or anyone else. He remembered when Narae confronted the boys who had picked on Yongnam when he was in primary school, or how both he and Yongnam had been there for her when their parents disapproved of her opening a studio of her own. What he lingered on now though was that day in the studio, both of them looking to him like they didn't quite recognise him, and he guessed he could sympathise. He barely recognised himself these days.

 

His leg felt stiff as he followed Junhong over the rocks, the Moon-Boy's every movement holding the fluidity of the ocean. A natural grace was held in every movement of muscle or bone and he carried himself with confidence and Yongguk had never before seen anyone more comfortable in their body. Some days Yongguk felt trapped inside his skin, desperate to claw his way out and search for freedom, like his limbs and bones weighed him down and bound him to the earth but even in his skin, Junhong seemed able to float and fly.

 

From over his shoulder, Junhong cast him a smile like a fishing line and Yongguk was reeled in as catch, “Where are you taking me?” He asked, his own lips curving into a smile.

 

“It's not much further, I promise.” Junhong said in return, laughing like water. His fingers slipped just slightly in Yongguk's own, so the elder held on tighter, “I found it a long time ago. I've never told anyone about it, but I want you to see. I want to show you.”

 

Before them, the rocks dipped down again, presumably towards another reef but here they sat shattered and sea-washed. The boulders had been knocked into each other by a storm long before, and they had fractured into shards, all sharp angles and rounded edges were wedged together in defence against the ocean. They helped one another down onto the freshly-exposed reef and made their way with care between the crushing boulders, avoiding the naked webs from long-gone spiders, and the slippery texture of slick weed under their toes until they found the edge of the pool. It was deeper than others they passed, and it appeared not to be connected to any other. The walls were lined with growing weed, vibrant greens and soft lilacs that appeared to glow even in daylight as they swayed in the wind-pulled tides of the secluded pool. Fish darted between folds of Sea Lettuce and spines of Urchins twitched to feel all that was around them but Yongguk's eyes were caught by the light that glinted and reflected from the edges of fractured glass, embedded in the sand. He could see no shape of a bottle, nor anything else with uniform nor structure, all he saw was the crystalline shine that made the glass look like something so precious, as though it were jewels cast out to sea, or treasure from a long lost ship. His lips twitched somewhat, here at the world's edge, broken glass did appear to be just like diamonds.

 

“Aren't they beautiful?” Junhong asked in a tone of wonder. He released Yongguk's hand and crouched at the waters edge, gazing into it as though he were mesmerised. Yongguk flexed his fingers, they felt naked without the warmth of Junhong's between them.

 

“They are.” He said in simple response.

 

“I think they're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.” Junhong replied, his head tipping again to the side. Yongguk's eyes traced the way his neck stretched and his skin shone, so smooth and soft in the light, “What is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen, Yongguk?”

 

 _You,_ he wanted to say, _your skin and your smile,_ he took in breath through his nose, _you've got the most incredible eyes._ His fingers reached out, then withdrew before they made contact, _You._

 

“The sea.” He said instead, immediately regretted it, was incredibly grateful.

 

Junhong nodded his head, and from where Yongguk stood he could just see that he was smiling, “I changed my mind.” The boy said, his head tipping to the side, “The most beautiful thing is when you make flowers, Yongguk.”

 

“I can make more, you know. More than the flowers, or the rocks. I can make you anything.” He said, moving to stand just behind Junhong. The boy turned his head.

 

“Can you show me again?” Electric excitement laced each of his words and his back straightened so he could stand tall. He was just a bit taller than Yongguk, but he still felt so small when standing beside the elder's stockier frame, lined with strong muscle and built from sturdy bone.

 

Yongguk's hand slipped into Junhong's again, “Come with me, then.” He said. They walked together back towards the rocky shelf, where they could be seated together side by side, facing outwards to the horizon.

 

“What would you like me to draw?” Yongguk asked when he opened his bag. Junhong took the workbook from his hold and cradled it to his chest as Yongguk unpacked pencils and water, brushes and paint laying out against the rock.

 

“Make me the sea.” Junhong whispered in reply.

 

Wind whistled between them while Junhong sat by Yongguk's side. Their knees almost brushed as Yongguk crossed his legs and opened to a new page, blank and inviting. Starting had always been the hardest, but with Junhong's eager excitement by his side he was already pressing pencil to paper and creating the ocean curve, then the distant shadow of the skerry. Birds called to the sea but he didn't look up as they dove down to take fish between their beaks, nor as the water rippled and washed against the stone they sat upon. All Yongguk's eyes focused on was his page and his picture, and the perfect world he could create.

 

Somewhere between the swell and the horizon Junhong dropped his head and settled it against Yongguk's shoulder. His fingers stuttered against the page, but with a deep draw in of his breath, he continued shaping the rocking waves, smooth at the surface with lips of white foam at their seam.

 

“It sings to me, you know.” Junhong murmured, against his shoulder, “The sea.”

 

Yongguk glanced to him as he withdrew a pencil, set it aside in turn for another, “What is the song like?”

 

“It's different.” His voice was soft as he watched Yongguk's addition of depth and dimension to every wave, “Sometimes it is happy, sometimes it is sad. Sometimes it's warm, other times it's cold.”

 

“Which is your favourite?” The ocean of Junhong's voice was drowning out the whistling wind, replacing it with a rhythm and tide of its own. The breeze tugged at the page and lifted the corner, but Junhong reached out to hold it down with the very tips of his fingers so as not to get in the way of his artist's creation.

 

“I like it now.” He said, thoughtful, hesitant, “It's sad, and it's dark. A slow song, it knows that winter is coming to change it.”

 

Yongguk stilled in his work for a moment and his eyes dragged over the paper waves he'd drawn, then the golden fingers, the hand, the wrist and arm that drew towards Junhong's steady beating heart, “It must be terrifying to know that Winter is coming, and that nothing will stop it.”

 

“Why would it be terrifying?” Junhong's thumb rubbed against the stack of paper, testing the texture.

 

“Winter always feels like the end.” Yongguk said. His index finger clicked open his palette of paints, his dampened brush dipping in. It started at the heart of a wave, in rounded strokes and then advanced towards the peak. Liquid paint melted into watercolour pencil to blur its edges, making everything soft, undefined, real.

 

“I think it feels like the beginning.” Junhong answered and Yongguk hummed. He wondered if this was a beginning, right here. Maybe of something great, or something memorable, or maybe all it was the start of was another painting of rolling waves to be left forgotten between pages of his notebook. Yongguk turned his head and glanced to the head of black hair settled against his shoulder, took in the smell of salt and of Junhong and thought maybe that was all it should be. That way he would never have to fear an end.

 

The drags of his brush pulled down the page to smother the white grain with blue and green and turquoise. It drew nearer to the edge, threatening to overflow from the paper and drip into their laps but instead Yongguk pulled it towards the corner, to where the fingers pressed down to hold his work in place.

 

Junhong's breath hitched at the first touch of paintbrush to flesh but neither of them spoke. _Make me the ocean,_ Junhong had said, and Yongguk would.

 

The sun was fading when the page was finished. Yongguk had set it aside a while ago, leaving it to dry in the breeze with his tools holding it in place. At his side Junhong had lay back against the rock with his shirt riding up and the folded shape of his filthy towel cushioning his head all while he gazed up at the waves painted up his arm, disappearing under his sleeve. The bronze of skin still glowed through, but Yongguk thought that only added to the affect, after all to him Junhong himself was already a work of art.

 

A finger curled into the back of his shirt and Yongguk turned his head, smiled when he saw the younger boy looking up at him, urging him down to be at his side and he followed him onto his back. Rock was digging into his spine, but he didn't mind, not when his chest fell into unison with Junhong's own and the thumping of their hearts came together as one.

 

Clouds were passing over the sun, and again Junhong reached up. Yongguk wasn't sure if he was admiring his sea, or trying to touch the sky but his own hand followed, caught it. He laced their fingers together and brought the hand back to drag his lips over the perfectly curved knuckles, the slender fingers and delicate nails. He pressed a kiss to Junhong's palm while the younger boy watched, and relished in the flavour of his skin, familiar and foreign all at once but perfect all the same.

 

“You look beautiful like that.” Junhong murmured, blinking lazily.

 

“Like what?” Yongguk asked. He replaced his lips with his thumb to drag over Junhong's knuckles.

 

“Happy.” Junhong replied and Yongguk smiled, because he was.

 

A larger wave knocked against the rocky plateau and Junhong lifted his head. He gazed out to sea, as though he was listening to it talking to him, singing to him. The smile that pulled at Yongguk's lips grew sad, “Has the tide changed?” He asked.

 

Junhong nodded his head and dragged himself up to sit, “I have to go.” He whispered. Yongguk nodded his head and didn't move from where he was lay. He didn't know where it was Junhong was going, but he knew it was somewhere he could not follow.

 

The warmth of a body disappeared from his side, and all Yongguk listened to was the wind. When he opened his eyes a little while later, he was alone, and the clothes Junhong had worn were folded neatly atop his bag, still warm.

 

It didn't take him long to walk back from the rocks to the cottage, and when he arrived home Himchan greeted him at the door. The sun had long set, and the lights of the house were welcoming him home, safe and secure and as they were meant to be. Dinner was eaten and tidied away, and not long after Himchan pulled Jongup with him to bed but that night Yongguk did not sleep. Instead, he sat on the floor of his bedroom, paints and pencil spilled out around him as he painted the rocks and the sea, and Junhong in between them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your patience. The week leading up to christmas has been MENTAL with work and preparations but finally I've had the time to give this the attention it needs. I really hope you enjoyed it, and I'm really sorry if it feels at all rough or disjointed! I'm also so tired I probably missed some typos I'm sorry about that, too!
> 
> I wanna give a special thank you to [Moonyeyedwalrus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonyeyedwalrus) for listening to all my whinging over the past few weeks, and her never ending patience and just generally being the best.
> 
> Lastly, since it is after midnight on December 24th (the day I celebrate Christmas) I want to say Merry Christmas to each and every one of you who celebrates it. I hope you have a safe and happy holiday season filled with family, food and fun.
> 
> x


	4. Chapter 4

_Sometimes, while Yongguk sleeps, he's swimming. The ocean is always as clear as it is blue and still enough to have him lounging on the tide with not a thing disturbing him. His eyes are open and his hands pushed through the water, moving him forward and onward towards a nothing he welcomed while his two strong legs kicked behind him. He felt weightless and warm, safe as everything moved around him with ocean grace, fluid as a paintbrush laving like a tongue on an empty canvas. A canvas, yes, that's exactly what it was, fresh and new and blank as it waited for the art of life to cross it, give it shape and colour._

 

_No tall trees of kelp grow around him to conceal his floating form behind their branches, nor is there a reef below him. There are no patterns painted by the wind on the surface above, all he can see is water, all he can feel is water, and ironically, he can finally breathe._

 

*

 

When Yongguk awoke it was with his cheek to paper and his neck aching. Sometime during the night he had lost himself between painted waves and with his fingers pressed against the cream strokes of Junhong's skin he had fallen asleep. It was mid morning, later than he had awoken yet in his time on the island and he could hear the rhythmic pull of the tide coming in twisting together with mournful seagull song. Low tide would have been not long before dawn that morning, and he exhaled through his nose at the knowledge it would not be out again until early evening, when the hidden beach's naked sand would be bathed in sunset light.

 

He blinked his tired eyes and rubbed his palm across the rough skin of his jaw and cheek, noting how the salt had taken a toll on it, even in the brief time he had spent on Bogildo. Arms pushed at the ground and he made himself sit with legs stretched out, one of flesh and bone, the other metal and plastic, encased in a fibreglass shell. He caught sight of his tired reflection in the mirror opposite, the Autumn sun had bleached his skin of its summer life, leaving his torso fair and pallid behind the black illustrations drawn under his flesh long ago in the dim light of Narae's studio. She always said he was her favourite canvas. Skin she had seen grow and mature and attached to a man she loved so dearly, the baby brother she had helped to raise. Years before she had claimed it an honour for him to have chosen her to be the one marking his skin with words and designs, turning him into a gallery of their combined creative efforts.

 

For the first time since leaving the mainland, his hand gravitated towards the mobile phone switched off at his bedside table. He took it into its palm, testing its weight and shape, wondering how many text messages and missed calls there were from his brother and sister, or their worried parents. They never liked it when he disappeared, but nor did he when they interfered.

 

Fingers loosened their grip and Yongguk watched the phone fall into the neatly made bed with a dull thud and he instead turned back towards his work and cleared away paints and pencils before he could make any further mess of the floor. Loose drawings and almost-completed paintings were spilling from his book where they had been pulled free of their binding to offer him more space to work. He gathered them in his hands, along with this new work and placed them in a haphazard pile on his bedside table, wondering if any would be completed quite to his satisfaction. Again, his eyes found Junhong's painted body and he breathed slow, maybe that one would be framed, even though he knew not even the most practiced hand would ever be able to capture the odd boy's beauty.

 

Wooden stairs creaked below his weight as he made his way down them, socked feet almost-slipping against the wood. The hallway was dim in the mid-morning light, but when Yongguk made it into the kitchen, he noted the clouds that hung low overhead to smother the sun and creep grey at the world's edges. He knew he had been lucky to have the last remnants of Summer on the island, but it would not last for long and every passing day was bringing them all closer to the ice and cold.

 

Outside, standing on the porch, was Himchan, a mug in his hand as he gazed out towards the sea. He was dressed in simple jeans and a black shirt, wrapped in a woollen cardigan that appeared to be hand made. Yongguk wondered if it was a creation of Himchan's mother's, or something he had been gifted by the women of the island since her untimely passing. He stepped out behind his friend, noticing the white frost spreading over the grass between the house and the path, not having completely melted even though it was hours past dawn.

 

“Morning.” Yongguk said, already beginning the process of rolling a cigarette. He twisted the end between his fingers, rubbing the paper together and placed it between his lips when it was complete.

 

Himchan turned his head and greeted his friend with a crooked smile, “Morning. Sleep well?”

 

Yongguk shrugged one shoulder. He lifted his right hand and flicked the light, protecting the burning flame with the palm of his hand as he sucked in the first drag to bring the fag alight. The lighter was tucked safely back into his pocket and he took hold of the cigarette between his index and middle fingers to pull it away from his chapped lips, “Yeah. I was painting until late, though. I'm not sure what time I went to sleep.”

 

“What were you painting?” Himchan quirked an eyebrow. He took another sip of his coffee, relishing in its bitter taste, then allowing it to slip warm down his throat.

 

Yongguk thought back to the angled rocks, rust brown and grooved by weather and salt shaping across paper, framed by ocean waves that frothed at their peak. His mind had been filled with images of the tide and of the waves, and of the beautiful almost-familiar boy who's naked skin and indigo eyes had Yongguk yearning for low tide. Fingers brought his cigarette again to his lips and he took in a slow drag, thinking of Junhong hidden away between pages of his notebook, “The rocks.” He said, smoke sliding in tendrils from his nose, “And the water. Y'know, just the same stuff I've been doing all around here.”

 

“You should show me the stuff you've been doing. I'd love to see it, I remember loving what you were able to draw and paint from what we had access to on the base.” Himchan smiled, bumping his side to Yongguk's own.

 

“Maybe.” Yongguk said, “Do you still have the portraits I did of you?”

 

Himchan grinned toothily, “Of course! I'm keeping those forever.”

 

Yongguk shook his head with a laugh, “I'm glad.” He remembered the boring evenings, when he'd scratch a graphite pencil against the back of a pamphlet, forming the angles and shapes of Himchan's jaw and nose and downturned lips. In the months they had spent side by side, the simple features and grooves in skin had grown to be so familiar, and the gravity of emotion. Yongguk was only now realising how little he had seen Himchan smile in those days.

 

“I'm sure you're better now, though.” Himchan said, and Yongguk smiled sadly.

 

“I've had plenty more practice.” He replied.

 

The wind rolled in from over the sea and tousled their hair. It was coming from the south that day but it brought no warmth with it, only the smell of rain and the promise of a changing season.

 

“Where is Jongup this morning?” Yongguk asked, “He always seems to be out when I wake up. I never see him.”

 

“He likes swimming first thing.” Himchan smiled fondly, “He goes down to one of the beaches west of here and takes a dip, then usually walks back across the rocks if the tide permits it.”

 

“Is it the beach where the seals sunbathe?” The painter took in another drag, and he noticed Himchan's hesitation.

 

“Yes. He likes it there. He's not afraid of them like everyone else on the island.” The man nodded his head, and he took another large sip of his drink, swallowing it down with none of the time to savour its flavour he had before.

 

Yongguk turned towards his friend and observed him, “He isn't like us, is he Himchan.” It wasn't a question.

 

Himchan went still, “Jongup isn't like us for a lot of reasons.” He replied with a firm voice.

 

“You know what I mean.” Yongguk said.

 

“No, Yongguk, I assure you I don't.” Himchan turned his head with hard eyes, and then moved to step back into the kitchen, leaving Yongguk alone with his cigarette.

 

It was an hour before they spoke again. Yongguk was treading from the bathroom, a towel rubbing his freshly washed hair, while old jeans clung to his still damp legs when Himchan passed him by, casting him a smile over his shoulder. He was going back to the mainland, he explained, as it was where business called him. If he did not return back that evening, he would in the morning and Yongguk bid him farewell with a smile.

 

*

 

When the tide was high, everything seemed different. The consuming water changed the shape of the island, drowning whole peninsulas of rock and reef, making everything feel smaller and confined, imprisoned by waves and wet. Yongguk trod along the well worn paths and gazed down towards the water beneath him, where it had lifted part way up the cliff to assist in the erosion that had taken part over centuries. Someday the rock Yongguk walked on would lose all its rooting and tumble as well into the sea to be swallowed by waves and create the home of many creatures. Maybe one day it would become a reef of its own, or maybe the tossing waves would slither through its many cracks and break it apart until all that remained were tiny grains, no more than sand, to be morphed and shaped by the ocean in her never ending power.

 

Yongguk turned his head and looked out to sea. Only the very peak of the skerry was visible now, he could just make it out behind the sea haze, but it was unlikely much of the colony was there. Instead the seals would be diving through the water, searching for food in the dim between tall and fluid kelp trees, deep below the surface. They floated like ghosts, the mammals that land rejected but whom the sea welcomed with open arms.

 

Sticks cracked beneath Yongguk's feet and he lifted one hand to shield his eyes from the sun as it peeked through the gathering clouds. Hardly any leaves were left on the trees on the eastern side of the island, all of them having been blown from their branches by the seasonal winds, and their drying forms were crunching under foot. He had been yet to explore this part of the island, further back from the reef and rocks that had grown so familiar. While walking, he passed the large boulder, and followed the path through the abandoned clearings, empty but for the memories of homes that lay there to decay. It had not taken him long to find the Chrysanthemums again, now wilting and tired, already preparing to drop their seed to the ground, and their lush petals to compost them but Yongguk passed them by, too, determined to seek a beyond.

 

The trees were growing close together and his palm pressed to one as he manoeuvred between larger roots that knotted and bulged from the splitting earth, too dry and salted to have any moss or fern growing between them, only weeds that thrived off the rotting leaves, and lichen that clung determinedly to the bark. The road to Bogil could not be too far away, but he could not see it through the thick of the wood. There, between the trees, he was sure he would not even know the ocean was nearby if not for the constant rhythm of its ebb and flow.

 

A bird called from the branches high above his head, a sound he did not recognise. It was not a gull, but some other kind yet to leave on its migration, or maybe left behind by its flock. For a moment Yongguk paused to listen to it with his spine pressed against the thin trunk of the tree. Again it called, slow and sad, and Yongguk wondered if it knew it had been forgotten, or if still it sang in the hopes that one day soon, someone would answer and it could follow the sound home. He looked up to where he could just see it perched on a naked branch, rusted brown feathers glossy in the light and head raised to the sky. The hard cone of its beak parted, and its throat puffed as it wailed out its tune, well rehearsed and remembered but still nothing came in return. Soon, winter would take the island in its merciless advance, and as the pools and puddles on the ground froze, so too would that bird's food and drinking water. It was unlikely to survive until the Spring thaw, and Yongguk hoped it didn't know it was going to die alone.

 

A car passed by along the not-too-distant road and the bird took flight, Yongguk continued on. He didn't have a destination in mind, he would just walk as far as his legs would take him, passing the time until the beaches and reef were laid bare and exposed. Ahead, the wood was beginning to thin out, and the shape of a building loomed, hand built and old. Through the trees he could see smoke rising from the chimney atop the house, a clothes line built from driftwood and between them was a boy. He could be no more than five or six, with silky black hair rich and thick, and flawless golden skin. With eyes shut tight and arms out stretched, he was running between billowing sheets like cotton clouds, left to dry upon the line while his mother sat watching, weaving, singing. Her hair and skin were just as exquisite as her son's, and her features were intricate, as though she were of design rather than coincidence. She swung back and forth on a porch seat, her lap filled with dried seaweed that she wove together in a pattern, making a basket or a blanket or something else Yongguk could not quite make out. It was the song she sang to her playing child that moved Yongguk, for it had no words, but the melody was beautiful and mournful, a lullaby from somewhere far away and with a meaning he didn't understand.

 

Behind her, the back door opened and a man emerged, his face worn by the island, his skin dull. Fingers found their way to brush through her thick hair and she looked up to her husband, silencing her song.

 

“Minsu-ah!” The man called to the playing boy. When his mother had ceased her singing, he had fallen still, then turned to his father, “Don't stray too far!” The beautiful child stepped across the grass and curled his fingers into the billowing sheet, steadying himself on his uncertain feet. When he turned his head, his wide eyes found Yongguk's, they were bright and unafraid, curious as they gazed upon a stranger. The child did not linger though, and soon he was turning around again, releasing the cotton sheets scrunched in his fists and running with his arms spread wide, as though he were trying to take flight.

 

It seemed unusual to Yongguk, for a family to be living so far away from the town. The home was concealed from both the sea and the road between trees that were dry or dying. He wondered if it had been a family home in their possession for a long time, before the villagers had removed themselves from the sea-side to hide away in the forced-normality of Bogil, or if much like Himchan, this family had something to hide.

 

Yongguk took the first step backwards when the door of the house swung closed, bouncing against its frame, then latching with a click. The breeze lifted the sheets in the air, making them billow and bloom and again the woman's beautiful song resumed, while her child chased the sky. They seemed so unaware and uncaring of the world around them, showing no push again the binds of the nearby town in its normative ways. Instead, the woman and her child seemed so content to simply exist there in the clearing, caught between the pull of the ocean, and the gravity of land.

 

With a turn of his head, Yongguk could feel it, too. There was something about the way the rhythmic waves could drag someone in, hold them close, and although he could not understand why the islanders had abandoned it, he could understand the fear of its overwhelming darkness. All consuming, all-encompassing. As beautiful as it is terrible, and unpredictable too. And yet, with all that in mind, Yongguk moved towards it without hesitation.

 

He retraced his steps between the grey and flaking trees, passing by the dying chrysanthemums and decaying homes until he was beside it again. By now, the clouds that had made a ring around the horizon had advanced to be threatening overhead, and the water was getting lower, gradually but inevitably, already the rock plateau was exposed, and soon the reef would be too. He clambered down from the grassy path until his feet were met with hard stone and be breathed deep, taking in the sounds and smells around him. Crabs were scuttling over the rock not far from where he stood, birds were swooping overhead and between the rocking waves was a seal.

 

Its head had broken the surface and it's liquid eyes watched him as he took a tentative step closer towards the edge, noting the pattern of dots across its face, like freckles on a nose. The slick form of its skin was an even brown along the length of its stronger body, and its flippers swished through the water to keep it afloat.

 

“Hello.” He said in greeting, feeling his lips twitch upwards as it didn't startle at the sound of his voice. His feet teased at the edge of the plateau, and the seal was no more than a few metres away, still watching him.

 

“What are you doing all alone?” Yongguk asked it, as though it would understand his words. Whiskers twitched and it shifted, moving along the plateau a little further, “I understand. I like having time to myself, too.” He followed it at a walking pace, watching as it would pick up speed, then fall back, toying with him.

 

“I can't believe the way the women in the town spoke about you, called your colony ugly and a nuisance.” Yongguk shook his head, hearing periwinkles crunch under his feet and roll down the rocky grooves to the water, where they would have to start the long climb back to the surface, “I think you're beautiful.”

 

It was then that the seal dove and disappeared from sight, with flippers propelling it forward like wings on a bird and it flew. Yongguk knew that the kelp forest grew there, out in the open water, and it was rich with fish for the taking, easy to catch between clamping teeth. Again, his lips twitched into a smile and he swung his bag from his shoulder to withdraw his book and pencils, wishing to try his hand at creating something else, something new.

 

When he made it to the boulder, the tide was low enough for the water to be less than ankle deep over the reef and from where he stood he watched the last few small fish dart between threads of neptune's necklace, scrambling for an escape before they were cut off and left exposed to the air. He dropped down his bag and took a seat with his legs hanging from the edge, flicking through his works until he landed on that from the day before. The waves looked real, almost enough to seem like they would spill from the page if he tilted it back and fall into his waiting lap. In the very corner were three dots of white, left by Junhong's fingers as he had held the paper down and watched in wonder as Yongguk created him an ocean. In his chest, Yongguk felt something shift and tighten, and he knew that if Junhong asked it of him, he would create him a whole world.

 

Down below, the water splashed and it took Yongguk a moment to realise it was more than just a wave. The seal had again returned, with its head peeping out from the depths as its front flippers nudged at the edge of the reef and it dragged up its blubbering weight to spread upon it. Jagged rocks dug into its rounded belly, but still it wriggled its way across the reef, splashing all the way. Yongguk watched the beast in amazement, all while it moved to the shelter between the two rocks rising into the air and meeting at their peak. Quickly, he flipped to a new page of his book and hastily touched pencil to paper, trying to memorise its silky skin as it glistened in the softened light of the evening sun, washed warm and fragmented.

 

It seemed so confident and comfortable under the gaze of a human when it fell still. Yongguk was smiling to himself, assuming it was simply taking a rest, warming its skin in the sun that remained. He traced its outline, squashed between the rocks, and held his breath in his fear of startling it when it emitted a low grown, and it's body shuddered. The sound was not one of an animal in distress, yet the man stilled in his work, watching as its muscles moved under its skin, as though they were trapped in a prison of flesh and fur, fighting to break free.

 

Another sound, this one pained, and the movement intensified until to Yongguk's horror, the skin along the Seal's spine split open and folded back, peeling away from the smooth and golden plane beneath. Yongguk's fingers clenched and he could not turn away, fearful of the blood and bone he was sure would be revealed, but it wasn't. Instead, he saw the shifting of a slick body, a graceful spine, slim shoulders, then an arm and he watched as a boy climbed from the seal's skin and rolled panting and naked onto his back with indigo eyes that blinked against the sun.

 

With the empty skin swaying in the waves, Yongguk set his book aside forgotten on the plateau. He gripped rock in his hands and climbed down, landing with a splash in the ankle deep water that soaked through his shoes and wet his foot and his prosthetic, but he did not advance further. From between the wedged rock, the boy turned his head and from over his shoulder, Yongguk met Junhong's eyes.

 

The heavy smell of the ocean was overwhelming down there, as was the smell of the seal Yongguk had just watched transform. It was a warm scent of fish and weed and salt, the smell of something old and rotten that was caught between the rocks, whipped by wind and dried against rock. His nose wrinkled, his lips twisted but he left it forgotten. In the face of Junhong, everything could be forgotten.

 

“Are you hurt?” Yongguk heard himself asking. He could feel his mouth moving, but his mind couldn't quite catch up to it, figure out how he had done it.

 

Junhong shook his head and sat up. His hair was sticking to his forehead and neck, while his eyes still adjusted, “No.” He replied and reached out, dragging his limp skin in towards his chest, as though it were something priceless, precious. Yongguk guessed it was, his only key to his ocean home.

 

He should be afraid of whatever the ocean boy was, he should be fleeing this weird and wrong place but instead Yongguk swallowed as he again took in the freckles that dusted the arch of Junhong's nose and framed his mouth, the liquid indigo of his wide and bright eyes and he offered him a hand to take. Fingers brushed against his palm, wet and uncertain, but soon the grip was sure and Yongguk's heart rate settled at the familiarity and trust he felt in it, no different to how it had been before when they had sat together on the rocks, side by side with paintbrush against skin.

 

He wanted to ask, to clarify and understand, to hear an explanation, but soon Junhong was standing naked and unashamed and stepping closer to him. Yongguk smelled the salt and the sea on his skin and his mouth couldn't find the words, couldn't put them together, because he did not need to be told what Junhong was. He had already known.

 

Junhong tilted up his head and looked at Yongguk with a smile, “I thought I would find you here.” He said. Yongguk tried to ignore the way fingers curled in to his shirt, holding on to him as though he were threatening to leave.

 

“You were looking for me?” He asked and Junhong smiled. He didn't answer the question, instead he slipped free of Yongguk's hold and moved steadily towards the edge of the reef.

 

“Will you swim with me?” He turned his head, eyes bright and unafraid. The boy reached out with a leg, dipping his toes into the water and relishing in the feeling of it against his skin, as though he had not just emerged from it minutes before.

 

“I can't.” Yongguk said, and it was true. He could not swim with his prosthetic on, and he was certain he would drown without it, “But I can watch you.”

 

Junhong laughed and kicked at the waves, amused when droplets were sent flying, “Would it be so enjoyable to watch me swim?”

 

Yongguk couldn't stop the smile that pulled at his mouth. _Yes._ He wanted to say, _It would be enjoyable watching you do anything._

 

*

 

It was dark when the first drops of rain fell.

 

Junhong had swam in the ocean for a long while as Yongguk painted the waves. He cleansed his golden skin of his sea-child smell and played in the water below the reef, catching fish in his hands and bringing them to Yongguk. The clouds towered like castles in the sky as they advanced towards them, billowing and blown by the cold Autumn winds. Every now and then, Junhong would call out to him, then be soothed by his voice until in the dying light he had chosen to take place by Yongguk's side, to watch him paint. He had never dressed, nor had he asked for cover, and so Yongguk had allowed him to curl in close against his side for whatever warmth he needed while focused on the synchronised rhythms of paint brush to paper and the steady breathing of each other.

 

“Where are you from, again?” Junhong asked, his ocean-voice steady through the breeze.

 

“Seoul.” Yongguk replied.

 

“What is Seoul like?” The boy continued.

 

“Big... Anonymous.” Yongguk frowned, remembering the city he so readily left behind, “There is a river, but it isn't by the ocean. I feel trapped when I am there, suffocated by everyone else, even though I live alone.”

 

“I wouldn't like to live by myself. It would make me terribly lonely.” Yongguk could feel Junhong's mouth moving, but he hadn't yet looked up.

 

“I'm used to it by now. I've been living alone for a long time.” Yongguk traced lines across the waves, breaking them apart, severing them down the middle.

 

“I would very much rather have someone to talk to, or play with, and love.” Junhong frowned, toying with the edge of Yongguk's sleeve, the fabric still feeling strange in texture under his fingers, “Have you ever been in love?”

 

“A long time ago.” The elder replied. With pencil, he created birds and clouds, then foam caps on each wave.

 

“What happened?” Junhong moved so his chin was perched against Yongguk's shoulder, peering at him with curious eyes and fluttering lashes.

 

“Love is all about timing.” He replied, “And it wasn't ours.”

 

“How do you know if the time is right?” Junhong queried with a frown as his eyes were distracted by his moving hands again. The tips of his fingers brushed against Yongguk's knuckles, familiarising themselves with the wrinkled skin and harder bone beneath.

 

“I don't know.” Yongguk admitted as he, too, watched hand meeting hand, “I guess you just do.”

 

“Does it scare you? Falling in love?” Junhong looked at him again.

 

“Not anymore.” Yongguk smiled, “Does it scare you?”

 

With only a moment to hesitate, Junhong had shaken his head and turned towards the sea, “No, it doesn't. Not as much as being left behind.”

 

They both looked up when the first rain fell. Yongguk's arm had found its way to secure around Junhong's middle, and the boy had instinctively pressed in closer. Drops pattered across the paper, smudging the paint and causing it to run again while neither made to move, neither willing to draw apart until the stream of water grew heavier and cascaded down upon them, drenching them to the bone.

Yongguk used one hand to try and gather his things, squinting against the drops, “We should go.” he said, regretfully, needing to raise his voice over the cascade.

 

He could see the skin on Junhong's arm flinching against the sting of heavy droplets, cool and fresh and unfamiliar on his skin. The fresh water was already dripping from him, holding his hair to his skin, weighing down his eyelashes, “I don't want to go home.” Junhong said, voice steady, “Not yet.”

 

“Then we need to get to cover.” He shrugged his coat from his shoulders and wrapped it around Junhong's shoulders, then helped him to his feet. The trees would offer them no protection without their leaves, and as thunder rumbled overhead, they were caught exposed in the open.

 

Junhong grabbed his seal-skin and brought it close against his body, as though wishing to protect it from the torrential downpour and Yongguk watched him. His fingers lifted and curled into wet hair, drawing the sticking strands away from wide eyes and he breathed.

 

“I know a place.”

 

No lights shone from the windows as Yongguk guided Junhong up the winding path. They had run together over naked sand and darted between rocks and finally wet and naked feet were meeting the sturdy wood of the porch, and they were under cover. He could not be sure if the house was empty, or asleep, and they were quiet as they crept dripping through the halls to Yongguk's bedroom where he gathered Junhong's shivering body in the warmth of a dry towel, and rubbed at his skin to bring back its colour. His shoes had been left by the front door, and his bag was now dropped by his bed, his work book almost spilling out, and Junhong's true skin having been dropped atop it.

 

Junhong blinked his rain-wet eyes and he noticed the way Yongguk was shivering, his own hands reaching to pull at his clothes, “Yongguk.” He said, “You're cold.”

 

“I'm okay.” He assured, uncaring for himself to instead focus his attention on Junhong.

 

“No you're not.” Junhong said. He pulled his hands free of their cotton restraint and again curled them into wet clothing, pulling at it as though waiting for it to come apart in his hands, split open the way his skin would to fold away from flesh and bone.

 

With a deep inhale, Yongguk stepped back, stomach clenching and teeth pressed together as he pulled his sweater and shirt from his back and dropped them into a heap on the wooden plank floors. His skin was pale and cold, and the black ink that marked him was stark in comparison to it, and Junhong's head tilted in curiosity. Hands then travelled to his pants, and he found himself still.

 

Junhong was watching, naked and beautiful from the bed and Yongguk could not stand the thought of revealing his skin and exposing his most grotesque secret. He was disgusting, his body was a fault of nature and a curse of luck and he didn't want Junhong to see it.

 

“You painted your body, Yongguk.” Junhong said, “like you painted mine.”

 

“No.” Yongguk said. A golden hand reached out, and fingers almost touched him but hesitated before they could make contact, Junhong's liquid eyes confused, “My skin is painted underneath, this can't be washed away. It's there forever.”

 

Uneducated eyes traced the words and letters, searching for meaning in the nonsense pattern, and ever curious. Again, Yongguk shivered, he was leaving a puddle on the floor with his drenched and dripping clothing, and it brought Junhong's focus down, “Yongguk...” He said again. It was strange to Yongguk, how the boy kept repeating his name, as though reminding him of who he was. Though he was grateful, because in Junhong's presence he could so easily forget.

 

Above their heads, the light flickered, and another crash of thunder sounded from over the ocean. The window pain rattled from the wind, “Wait here.” Yongguk said. He slipped from the room, and crept down the stairs, feeling out with his hands to find his way through the dark. When he made it into the kitchen, he stumbled and searched through drawers until his fingers brushed smooth wax and he gripped the candle, bringing it back with him. The door was closed and he quickly moved the dried artworks from his bedside table to lay on his pillow while he lit the candle with his lighter in case the power were to go out, which it did a moment later.

 

Shuffling paper had Yongguk turning his head, and he watched as Junhong glanced between art works he hadn't seen before. One of a seagull perched on a rock, another of the main street of Bogil, then the jetty where he had watched the seal. Finally, his fingers were landing on the final piece, the rocks and the waves and the naked boy in between.

 

“Who is he?” Junhong asked as his fingers brushed over the curve of the jaw, then the strong muscles of the thighs, the dark of shadow between them, “He's beautiful.”

 

It was surreal, in a way, that he could not recognise his own face but then Yongguk was unsure he would have ever seen it. Not without his nose and eyes being twisted by the waves that distorted the reflection, morphing him into something unrecognisable.

 

Yongguk took the paper from Junhong's fingers to instead replace it with his palm. He was gentle when he pulled the boy to stand, guiding him across the room until they were standing side by side, facing the mirror fastened to the simple closet. When Yongguk's hand moved to settle against Junhong's waist, the sea-boy watched it in the mirror and startled when he felt its warmth, “He is you.”

 

Junhong lifted his head and looked up so that Indigo eyes could meet their mirrored reflection, taking in the sight of _him_ for the first time. Fingers moved and touched to his cheek, then his jaw, then dragged down the length of his throat only pausing to nudge at his Adam's Apple and finally stopping when they reached collarbones. He bent his knees and lowered himself down to sit while his eyes chased every movement of muscle and limb, focusing on his chest as he in took breath, and darting back to meet themselves to see his lashes flutter and brows twitch. It was a trance of fascination, fingers touching skin, then glass, as though searching to feel the difference between truth and reflection.

 

Yongguk smiled when Junhong first touched the mirror, startling at the cold and flat plain, then reaching forward again to press his palm to it, “Is this what you see, when you look at me?” Junhong turned his head, looked back at the man who watched. Yongguk stepped closer and lowered himself down, too, legs stretching out on either side of Junhong as his arm found its way to secure around his middle.

 

“Yes, this is what I see.” He said. His lips found Junhong's shoulder, painting a line of them to his nape and the black hair that twisted there.

 

“I look like an island-boy.” Junhong remarked, singing his laughter as he again touched nose, lips, eyelashes.

 

“You look beautiful.” Was how Yongguk corrected him. This time, when Junhong reached out to touch the mirror, Yongguk caught his hand and laced their fingers together. For a moment, he thought about bringing that hand back to him, kissing the palm or the fingertips or the neat row of knuckles just under the skin but he didn't. He just held onto it and he noticed the way Junhong's eyes moved away from his cheekbones and his lips and his skin to instead focus on the way Yongguk's fingers curled between his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

 

When Junhong turned his head, the tips of their noses brushed and Yongguk saw the way his eyelashes fluttered, his eyes not quite closing. A flash of lightning shot across the sky, thunder rumbled in and Yongguk kissed Junhong.

 

It started slow, just a simple brush of mouth against mouth but when Junhong did not pull away it was deepened. Strong arms wound tight and secure around Junhong's middle, drawing him in closer as they kissed slow and sweet. Junhong's hands were the first to reach forward and grasp at Yongguk's exposed skin, holding onto him tightly trying to get impossibly closer to the warmth of him, the burn of him, the very heart of him.

 

The kiss was broken for both to gasp for breath until Yongguk's fingers were twining through Junhong's hair and he was drinking him in all over again, imprinting his taste and feel to memory. He wasn't sure what it was he had been expecting, but Junhong was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted, and every time his head dipped and tilted, Yongguk chased him for more until it was impossible to know where one ended and the other began. Together, they were drowning, but neither wanted to come up for air.

 

Somewhere between the mirror and the bed, Yongguk had lost his remaining clothing in a damp heap on the floor with his mind losing focus on anything that wasn't Junhong, too intoxicated to care. He paid no mind to the way sweat gathered beneath the silicone sleeve of his prosthetic, nor to the way it twisted and clicked with every moment. All he could focus on was mapping the planes of Junhong's skin with lips and tongue, tracing between moles and scars and freckles, relishing in the gasps and whimpers he emitted every time he was touched just right until they were falling apart at the seams, and tumbling into each other.

 

It took them a long time to catch their breath, once they were finished. Yongguk felt warm under his skin, as though every inch of his body was on fire from the pleasure of it all. Junhong was spread out on his front against the mattress, his breathing now steady as Yongguk trailed his fingers in a slow rhythm up and down his spine. The rain had slowed down, and the storm passed, but still neither of them moved.

 

“Are you tired?” Yongguk asked between kisses to Junhong's shoulder.

 

The boy hummed and shifted, shaking his head. His eyes opened and he blinked lazily over his shoulder, content in the warmth, “Not really.” He murmured, “Are you?”

 

Yongguk smiled, “No.”

 

When Junhong rolled onto his back, he was smiling and Yongguk couldn't pull his eyes away. The rosy pleasure-fuelled flush of his cheeks, the heavy lids of his eyes and his fluttering lashes were mesmerising, spellbinding but it was his smile, like unfiltered light that drew Yongguk in again and again. Maybe he should fear going blind if he were to look too long, but he could not stop his craving to taste him all over again.

 

It was Junhong's turn this time, to touch and feel and take him in. His fingers drifted first over his tattooed chest, then he was pushing himself up and smoothing his palm down further, the plane of his stomach, the strong muscles of his thighs and the dark shadow of hair curled between them. If he had so wanted, he could have teased Yongguk's spent body, brought him back to life and stimulated him to hunger but instead his fingers drifted further to where the silicone sleeve wrapped around his knee and lower thigh, then connected down to the fibreglass below.

 

Yongguk closed his eyes, with muscles tensing, “You have been built.” Junhong said, and Yongguk couldn't feel his hands anymore. He didn't know if Junhong had pulled away, or if instead he was testing the texture of a foreign material beneath his skin, but he did not want to see.

 

“I have.” He said, admitted, whispered.

 

“Does it hurt?” Junhong's tone was so filled with honest concern and Yongguk had to turn away.

 

“No.” He said, swallowing past the lump that was forming in his throat. Gently, Junhong pulled down the silicone and rolled it away, watching in wonder as it peeled back from Yongguk's skin and then was off completely. He felt the way Yongguk tensed up, his fingers curling to fists in the sheets as Junhong's palm brushed over his knee, then down against the beginning of a calf to where it rounded off and ended in his stump.

 

When the hand pulled away, Yongguk was sure for a moment Junhong would run from him. He could not open his eyes, he could not bear to see the disgust that lingered in the Indigo pools, or the way his body would recoil away from him. Junhong, ocean and pure, Yongguk, earth and broken.

 

Again, hands found his thighs, then his hips, then stomach, sliding back towards his chest and face where they cupped his jaw, “Why are you hiding from me?” Junhong whispered down to him, kissing over his closed eyelids and hollowed cheeks.

 

“I'm not-” His voice caught, and Junhong hummed to him. The pad of his thumb brushed over his throat, soothing across the bulge of his Adam's Apple.

 

“You're beautiful.” Yongguk felt the breath that fanned out over his lips and the tension below his skin began to slip away, fading from him slowly and surely. When he was kissed, he finally was relaxed and soon Junhong's body was blanketed over his, warm, comforting, familiar.

 

They lay like that for a long time, sometimes kissing, sometimes not, until the candle burnt out and everything was finally dark. Junhong rested his head down to Yongguk's chest, just to hear his heart, steady and anchoring.

 

“It's different to the way the ocean sings.” He said, tracing shapes with his fingertips.

 

“How so?” Yongguk asked.

 

“The ocean sings for me to come home, the same song it sings to all of us. It asks us not to leave, to stay with our brothers and sisters and forget about a land of dry. Your song isn't like that.” Junhong smiled, “Your song is calling just for me.”

 

Yongguk didn't quite understand, but it felt right to him. He couldn't imagine his heart calling to anyone else, not when he felt himself bound to Junhong like the tide was bound to the moon, in an endless cycle of push and pull. Fingers found their way back into long-dried hair and he began a rhythm of carding them through, slow drags and tentative pulls, and Junhong fell asleep against him. It did not take long for him to follow.

 

When dawn came, Yongguk awoke alone between sheets that smelled of salt and sand and a love lost.

 

*

As the storm passed, so did Autumn. Towering clouds were replaced by dreary fog, and in the mornings the grass was dusted with freshly fallen snow. With the trees stripped completely of all life, and grass turning brown and crisp, it couldn't help but feel like the passing of things, a final end. But still Yongguk walked to the reef every day at low tide, but he did not see Junhong again. Instead, he sat alone on the mist-dampened rocks and drew an ocean he could barely see, waiting to be found by someone who never came again in search for him, like a bird forgotten by its flock.

 

A week before the New Year news reached them of the blizzards in the north. The winter was proving to be the worst in years, and the water around the island was predicted to freeze before the year was out, trapping all those who lived there upon it until the Spring's melt. Yongguk knew he could stay, hidden away from the world, but time had come for him to go home.

 

Himchan drove him to the ferry, and as Yongguk stood at the back of the boat, he watched his friend be swallowed by the fog. Gulls were calling from somewhere above, the waves sloshed at the boats sides, but he could barely make out any shapes other than that of Bogildo, becoming smaller and fainter, fuzzy around the edges. At one point, he could have sworn he saw a head peeking out from between the waves, watching him go but before he could get a clearer look it was gone, as was the island.

 

It was on the train that he finally pulled his phone from his bag, switched it on. The light of the screen was bright, exploding with messages and missed calls like fireworks. With the rhythm of the train on its tracks soothing him, Yongguk opened a familiar number and he called, his lips twitching when it was answered right away, “Mm Noona, it's me.” He said and closed his eyes, “I'm coming home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took literally 85 years, and I'm also sorry if it's crap. I'm honestly so grateful for everyone who has been so patient, and I sincerely hope you won't be disappointed. I honestly feel really anxious about this and I'm just so qjwhefv idk oh well anyway moving on with life and so forth, one part left.


	5. (Epilogue)

The train rocked on the tracks in a soothing rhythm, and Yongguk's eyes were closed. Light was filtering through his eyelids and creating flickering shapes, ever changing as they moved fast and steady down the tracks, between trees that had grown tall and green and shaded the twisting train under their branches. The constant hum of voices surrounded him, but he didn't mind. It was the sound of life, of chatting couples and laughing children.

 

A little way ahead, a young couple spoke between themselves, and just a row beyond them was a family of four. Parents and their two children, playing games out the window as they watched the world pass them by. Across the aisle, Yongguk had noticed a soldier, young and probably on leave, and he could hear the way his knee was bouncing in nervous energy as he waited for the moments to pass and for the train to take him home.

 

“I spy with my little eye something beginning with...” The little boy said, hesitated, considered his options, “T!”

 

“Tree!” His sister chimed up immediately. Yongguk assumed by the sound of her voice she was older, and the boy groaned out in frustration.

 

“No fair, you get it so easy!” He whined, and the parents laughed. Yongguk realised then that he was smiling, and he opened his eyes.

 

The train had left Seoul behind hours before, and they were surrounded by open pasture and mountains. Not too far in the distance he could see the outline of a town, and beyond that the shadow of a city rising from the land. Maybe it was Sunchang, maybe Damyang, he wasn't sure. Either way, it would soon be left behind too in the train's steady advances down and away to where they would be forgotten. He shifted in his seat and folded his arms over his chest, comforted by the sounds of voices.

 

“I spy with my little eye...” The little girl began, and he looked up. Her palms were pressed against the glass and she gazed outside with such amazement that Yongguk was left wondering if she had ever left the city before, ever seen this much green in all of her life.

 

Above his head, the intercom livened and buzzed, then a recorded woman spoke, _“Next stop, Gwangju.”_ She annunciated the words perfectly, and around him people began collecting their things. Buildings were rising from the ground around them, growing taller, newer, wealthier as though they appeared from thin air and the train slowed. Across the aisle the soldier stood, sucking in deep breaths now and swinging his bag over his shoulder. A man stepped out of his way, bowing his head respectfully and when the soldier saluted, Yongguk noticed his fingers were shaking.

 

The train pulled to a stop and people spilled out onto the platform, disappearing in the crowds. Yongguk watched the soldier as he looked around, brows furrowed. He turned his head suddenly, his name must have been called and another man, equally as young, emerged from the tide of people that ebbed and flowed across the platform. They stood an arm's length apart, and even though neither man reached out to touch the other, Yongguk saw the way the soldier's fingers stopped shaking. It must have been weeks, months even since they had seen one another, now it was minutes until they could be in each other's arms again.

 

“ _Doors closing, please stand clear.”_ Another automated voice, then a string of beeps, then the train was moving again. Steady and constant. It took both shorter than he remembered, and longer than he wanted, but soon the rhythm of the train gliding across tracks was replaced by that of water under a boat and he was carried south towards Bogildo island.

 

Gulls called to one another as they flew above the water, darting between each other and every now and then diving back into the sea in search of fish that swam too close to the surface. With a hand raised to cover his eyes, Yongguk watched them break the surface of the glittering waves and send water drops flying, emerging not long after with the wriggling fish between their beaks. Sometimes, they dropped them when under the strain of taking flight, but other times he could see them gobbling down their treats, taking their fill while the sun was warm and skies clear and the height of summer was upon them.

 

Again, he closed his eyes and took it in. The scent of the sea, the sounds of life and the steady rocking of the water below his feet. People called from the cabin, excited children, happy couples and he guessed that the island had appeared on the horizon. Maybe he should find it strange, this feeling of comfort and anticipation, but he couldn't quite help it. Not when it felt like he was finally returning home.

 

No one came to greet Yongguk at the docks, but it was what he expected, and while embarking passengers ran into the arms of their loved ones and piled into well-used cars, he set out on foot. It was the way he had loved learning about the island before, and now in the warmth of a summer evening he wanted to learn it all over again. He started by following the road up from the water, then diverted onto a path that lead him between tall trees, their bark still grey and peeling from the salted wind, but their branches now encased with lush green leaves. A few dried cicada shells clung on to the branches, while the critter's steady song rang in his ears. They always did get louder at sunset, when they could dart between trees and branches in the dimmer light and avoid keen eyed predators. It was the weight of their bodies, though, that often lead to their downfall. Their wings weren't quite strong enough to carry them as fast as they needed, and when Yongguk looked down he could see legs and wings, or half-chewed thorax that had been left abandoned on the leaf litter floor, their meat an easy meal for a mother bird to bring home to her hungry chicks.

 

Sweat was already beading against his forehead, under the collar of his shirt while the island's tall growing grass stroked against his legs. He extended one arm towards it, feeling the soft seedheads brushing against his palm, tickling the sensitive skin there. Everything seemed greener and more alive than it had in the Autumn passed, and it made the island all the more beautiful. Down below where he walked he could make out the lines of oyster beads laying beneath the high tide, then further along the coast dipped inwards to the harbour the small town of Bogil was built into, where it was protected from the ocean winds. Most of the boats were at sea by then, leaving the harbour empty of all but the smallest and oldest vessels rocking in the breeze.

 

The path carried him down towards it, and he moved from walking between the island's growth-stunted trees to instead move between houses and homes. Windows were open to let in both warmth and light, while families called and laughed between them. Children ran together, dodging the parked cars left in driveways with gravel crunching under their feet. Bogil in Summer was a very different picture to how it had appeared during Autumn. But then again, everything is.

 

A car passed on the road, and Yongguk stepped out of its way, then descended further between the close-built houses. Their structures were battered by wind and salt, as was everything else on the island, and many had peeling paint or dislodged beams. In the darker months, when everything was already grey around the edges it had seemed miserable and drab, like the only thing holding the town together was its age, and its stubborn refusal to fall apart. The echo of voices wove between the buildings on the ocean breeze and he made towards them. He needed to pass through there anyway, break for the opposite side of the bay where the homes turned into the town's street of shops and then to the path beyond that lead around the empty headland towards the rocks and reef so familiar to him and the lonely home on the hill.

 

He hadn't seen Himchan in the months since he had left Bogil, though they talked often. At first Yongguk had been hesitant to return to Seoul, but like the constant tides, his return had been inevitable, and unavoidable. His brother and sister barely allowed him out of their sight, their mother constantly asking him questions. It wasn't until Spring that Himchan again offered him an out, once the ice around the island had thawed and the aching in Yongguk's chest faded. That hadn't gone completely, but he guessed it never quite would. Neither Narae nor Yongnam had ben pleased to see him leave, both attempting to argue him back.

 

“ _Your family is here.”_ Narae had tried, her eyes as pleading as her voice. She was never like that, she much preferred to be aloof, mysterious, taking everything with a laugh and a quirk of her eyebrow.

 

“ _What is there for you on that island?”_ Yongnam had made a face, _“There's no people, there's no life. No opportunities. You have nothing there.”_

 

Yongguk didn't quite remember what he'd said in return, but it had been sharp, biting like an animal cornered without escape and he had broken free. Of them, of Seoul, of a life he could so readily leave behind for upturned boats left drying on a beach, an empty house built between swaying grass, and the ever powerful embrace of the sea.

 

He turned his head as his shoes sunk into sun dried sand and gazed towards the open ocean. The rows of oyster beds stretched out to touch the horizon, while white capped waves rocked over them, just breaking against the pylons. Maybe they would come to understand it one day, how the ocean wind soothed his storming mind into calm, how when he was beside it he could breathe again free of the city toxins constantly threatening him to choke. He felt safe there, on the island.

 

The sand beneath his feet grew coarse, becoming gravel and he was standing on Bogil's main road. The small convenience store had a wide open door, with fully stocked shelves tumbling out onto the street, bulging with newspapers and magazines, a few vegetables taking up prime spot at the front, bright and colourful and waiting to be snatched up by any passing villager. He turned off the main road just beyond the store, diverting from his route to slip between the central buildings. The smell of fish filled his nose from the fish monger not too far away, and he knew he was getting close.

 

It was hard to remember which one was it after so many months away, but Yongguk found the Ahjumma's store tucked safely at the end of the street. No charms hung between racks of goods out front, and the door seemed sturdily closed, no light shining from inside. If he didn't know better, he'd think the building was abandoned, with its foggy glass and peeling paint, its wooden beams being left to decay in the salt-wind. He stepped in closer, one hand lifting to shield his eyes as he peered through the window. Shelves and bookcases still lined the walls, over flowing with knick knacks and books, artworks still hanging in their places. He squinted, noticed the wind charms hanging on a wire rack in the opposite corner, right below a patch of vacant wall, where once had been the painting of a sea-child that lingered in his memory.

 

A bird called and he straightened up, there was no use loitering there so instead he moved back towards the main road that would carry him towards the foot-worn paths and take him to the house.

 

“Now there is a handsome face I wasn't expecting to see!” The voice was warm and familiar, and Yongguk turned his head towards Gayeon. She was emerging from the fishmonger's he had passed, a bag swinging from the crook of her arm, heavy with the day's morning catch, and a cheerful smile on her wrinkled mouth.

 

“Ahjumma.” Yongguk greeted with a smile, “I just passed by your shop.”

 

“Lookin' for me, where ya?” She asked with a laugh, nudging at his side and he chuckled along with her.

 

“I thought it only right to say my hello when I passed. I noticed the store was closed, I worried you'd shut it down.” He replied. A man bustled up the road and turned into the shop, spurring her into movement back to the main street, and Yongguk fell into step beside her.

 

“No no, nothin' of the sort, lovie.” She waved her hand, “My daughter's husband decided to take her on a trip to Busan this summer, frivolous those two. Don't understand the point of visiting the big city, no offence to you of course. Left me with my grandbabies she did, so closed down the shop for a little while to look after them.”

 

Yongguk emitted another chuckle, “It's very kind of you, Ahjumma. I'm sure your daughter is relieved to have the time to herself.”

 

“A brat is what she is.” Gayeon scoffed with a shake of her head, “Are you off to stay with Himchan-ah again?”

 

“Of course. I thought it was a must to see the island in now Winter's gone.” Yongguk nodded and glanced to her and she laughed, clapping her hands.

 

“Well oh well we're very lucky to 'ave you on the island with us again, Handsome!” She showed him her toothless grin, “How long will you be staying this time?”

 

“I'm not sure.” Yongguk shrugged a shoulder, “At least until the summer is out.”

 

“That'll be a few months yet!” She curled her fingers around his arm, holding onto him as they emerged together onto the street, “I'll 'ave to let Miyoungie know you're back! She'll be very excited indeed.”

 

“Minsu-ah!” Called a man, and Yongguk lifted his head. He watched as a small boy ran along the road, his arms winding their way around his father's leg once he caught up. His hair was dark, thick and his eyes stormy, Yongguk knew him as the boy he'd seen playing between sheets outside his home the Autumn passed. The child turned his head towards them, and from across the street their eyes met, one pair wide and curious, looking to the world with newfound fear and wonder.

 

“Lots of rumours around that boy. I wouldn't look too long if you don't want to get his Papa mad.” Gayeon said, and Yongguk realised she'd been following his gaze.

 

“Rumours?” he asked.

 

“His Mama up and left during winter, just disappeared she did. _He_ claims she's from the mainland, fled back in the night but ya'know how people talk. Some were saying she was one of them you-know-whats. Came straight up outta the sea and into his bed, giving him a sea-baby outta nowhere.” Gayeon shook her head, as though trying to push the thoughts from mind, “Of course she left again, once she got the chance, but not without leaving something behind.”

 

Yongguk watched the way Gayeon gestured towards the boy, who's fingers were curled into his father's pants until his knuckles were white. He was pressed as close as he could to the man, as though afraid to let go of him, “It's sad.” Yongguk said, exhaling through his nose, “That she left, I mean.”

 

Gayeon's lips twisted and she watched the child with distrust, “Sad is what you'd get for stealing from the sea, Lovie. No story like that could ever come to a happy end.”

 

Out to sea, a foghorn sounded. Soon, the ships would be coming home, their hold filled to the brim with fresh fish to be carried from deck as the sun teased at the horizon, only offering them little light. “I should get going.” Yongguk said, drawing back from Gayeon, toward the hills, “Himchan is expecting me.”

 

“Of course, of course. You go along now before it gets dark. I'm sure we'll be seeing a fair lot of ya!” She said and Yongguk bowed his head. He could feel her eyes watching his back as he followed the road out of town and disappeared between the trees.

 

It wasn't far to the water from there. Just through the trees, across a clearing then he was standing beside it, gazing down into it. The surface was glittering in the clear evening sun, waves sloshing up against the cliffs where they covered the reef in its highest tide. He wondered if it would look different, after the winter months erosion, or if it would still be the same as it had been when he memorised every curve and arch of rock or stone and copied his sight down onto paper.

 

As winter had progressed, and Seoul had been blanketed in white, the walls of Yongguk's small apartment had become lined with his images of the sea. Paintings of rocks and water and sky and skerry took up every inch of his home, some complete some not, some given frames and pride of place, others left hanging from their half-stuck adhesive and curling at the edges. His brother had once looked over them and claimed with such certainty that they could be sold to collectors of galleries for a profit, but Yongguk couldn't bare to relinquish even one drop of the sea he had created for himself, nor their serenity. With the waves around him, he had no longer taken to walking aimlessly along the city streets, straying too close to the river, lingering too long on Mapo bridge, gazing down towards the murky depths below him, wondering how it would feel to take the Han into his lungs, and have his prosthetic drag him down.

 

On the path ahead of him, a bird landed, its beak pecking for discarded seed or bugs in the dirt. Yongguk paused a moment and watched the way the sunset light bounced off its rusted brown feathers, making them glisten and glow. From the trees that lined the path, another bird flew down, its fluttering wings carrying it to drop alongside its companion, then came a third. Together they chirped and chattered, their small feet carrying them through the shorter grass, their keen eyes searching for last little scraps of food before they would retire to the branches for the evening. Their migration would have been long over, and instead their nests would be built secure in the trees, filling with freshly hatched eggs, and crying chicks hungry and in need of attention.

 

When Yongguk stepped forward again, they scattered and he followed along the path as it twisted beside the sea, behind the covered beach and up the hill to the house that glowed welcomingly with light. He scuffed his shoes against the doormat and lifted his hand to rap his knuckles against wood, heard footsteps echoing inside.

 

For a moment, Yongguk had to squint against the brightness that rolled out of the open door, but then he was smiling, “Himchan-ah.” He said in greeting.

 

“Yongguk.” Himchan replied, stepped out of his way, “Come in.”

 

As soon as Yongguk was over the threshold and his shoes were off, they were embracing, tight and warm, a proper welcome, “It's good to see you.”

 

“It's good to see you, too.” Himchan chuckled, clapping him on the back. When they pulled apart, Yongguk looked up to see Jongup watching them from the kitchen doorway with ocean eyes assessing, analysing, “Make yourself at home.”

 

It was easy to lose himself in the rhythms of summer. Long nights would be spent on the porch smoking, drinking, laughing about years and seasons past, the days would be spent soaking in the sun. Every morning, Yongguk woke up and sorted through his book to gaze between paintings and portraits. Artworks of seals playing in the surf, of birds feeding their young, some of Himchan, even of Jongup, others just of the sea and sky, with the skerry evanescing behind ocean spray. He hadn't realised how much of himself had been left on Bogildo until he had returned, and found his need to create, and his love for a life barely lived.

 

On the seventh day Yongguk was alone in the house. Himchan had left for the mainland again, Jongup to the sea, and he had chosen to lay his mind out upon the floor. He arranged his paintings and drawings in an order that came naturally to him, waves along the top edge, birds towards the bottom. He chose his favourite drawing of Himchan and set it beside a painting of Jongup, then one of a boy whom he did not wish to name. Outside, crickets and cicadas were singing in unison, a symphony of summer between swaying grass and life-weighted leaves. He used to hate the sound, the way every low buzz had him feeling legs and wings on his skin, crawling over him but now combined with the crashing of waves not too far away, it was soothing, comforting. Home.

 

When a knock came to the door, he lifted his head. Bare feet smacked against hard wood floors, tattered jeans dragged along too and Yongguk opened the door to see Junhong, dripping and bare, with his limp skin clutched in his hands.

 

“You came back.”

 

*

 

Wind dipped between the fragments of glass strung along fishing wire, and hanging from the porch roof. Each piece was frosted by salt, eroded by ocean waves to leave it smooth and curved, beautiful charms the sea had given back. Junhong was laying on his front in the grass, between the sea and their small home, and with Yongguk by his side. His eyes were closed, his cheek pressed against his forearm while the wet slide of a paintbrush glided across his upper back, perfecting the curves of waves on his skin.

 

The sun was setting over the water, but its light was almost smothered by the early Autumn clouds that had gathered in the sky above their heads. They ended most days like this, together in silence, creating whole worlds upon skin. Sometimes Yongguk used paint to make Junhong the sea again, all tossing waves and dominating tides, occasionally even with a seal in between, sometimes instead they put paints and brushes aside to use their teeth and their tongues to create another kind of art across planes of flesh. Yongguk wasn't sure which one was his favourite, but he didn't think he had to decide.

 

Summer had been long and hot, but he had not noticed it. Not when he had been holding Junhong naked and safe in his arms, nor when he walked in to town under the sun's beating rays, meeting and discussing with all kinds there. Neither had he felt the summer swelter when he stood in the small clearing, hammer and nails in hand as he built a home for them from the ground up, just big enough for what little they needed. Not much was necessary when they had each other. Summer had passed them in a haze of heat and work, and when Yongguk was finally installing the lock on their front door, Autumn had rolled in.

 

Junhong lifted his head, his indigo eyes gazing out towards the horizon. Yongguk glanced to him, his fingers stilling in their work, “Is it singing to you again?” He asked.

 

“Mhmm...” Junhong hummed in reply, “It's louder today.”

 

“Tell me what it's like?” Junhong closed his eyes again, dropped his head back down to his arms.

 

“It's slow, and sad. During summer it was happier music, songs that celebrated the sun but now it sings to me of turning seasons and different currents. It's saying that everything is changing but the tides remain the same. It's telling me that the world above water will die and fade, but everything below will still flourish and thrive, that it would welcome me home.” A shiver ran down Junhong's spine, the breeze was picking up. Yongguk couldn't stop himself from leaning down and pressing a kiss to the still bare skin between his shoulder blades, soothing him back to relax.

 

“That sounds like it would be a beautiful song.” He said.

 

“It's not as beautiful as yours.”

 

The first rain drops were easily brushed aside as a trick of the mind, ocean spray blown too far, an over stimulated imagination. Yongguk dragged his brush down the length of Junhong's spine, his brow creased in concentration. Some of his best art work had been painted against Junhong's skin, left to wash away or be smeared in his movements but he did not mind. Art did not need to be permanent to be beautiful, and Junhong was beautiful enough without it.

 

A drop of rain fell from the sky and blurred the arch of a wave on Junhong's back, then came another and another, until the ocean was smudged and running, rolling over Junhong's sides into the grass beneath him. Yongguk dropped his paints down, gathered them together quickly, “Come on, lets get inside.”

 

Bare feet sunk into grass, dirt and leaves sticking to his skin. The rhythm of the rain was loud against the roof of their home, but the lights that shone from inside were welcoming, offering safety and warmth against the power of the elements. Yongguk reached the porch and set down his things to turn back. Junhong had hesitated in his rush home and he was looking over his shoulder, back out to sea. The rain did little to bother him as it ran over his skin, held his black hair clinging against his face.

 

In the dying light Yongguk could see the goosebumps rising on his arms, the shivers that ran down his spine, “Junhong!” He called, hand curving around the porch railing, “You'll catch a cold!”

 

As though woken from a dream, Junhong turned back towards him and he smiled, ran, leapt onto the porch and into Yongguk's embrace. He stumbled back and laughed, strong arms wrapping tight around Junhong, holding him safe against his chest.

 

He knew that any moment could be their last, when the song of the sea called to Junhong louder than his heart ever could and he had the choice to fear it, or to embrace it, so he closed his eyes. His searching fingers slid slowly over a hip, a waist, chest, arms and throat. He traced the shapes of ears and lips, eyelashes and foreheads, reminding himself of every texture and eventually, his cheek touched to Junhong's supporting shoulder, he could smell the salt on his skin, hear the blood pounding in his ears.

 

It doesn't matter how things end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this little tale, I sincerely hope you enjoyed it.  
> A very special thank you to Nana for creating her [beautiful art](http://artby07.tumblr.com/), [Moonyeyedwalrus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/moonyeyedwalrus) for her never ending support (seriously what would I do if I didn't have you idk), and my friends Rai and Yoot for hyping me up.


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